


Vrijheid

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BDSM, Begging, Bondage, Breathplay, Bucky Barnes Is Not Your Damsel, Bucky takes charge of his healing, Come Eating, Dom Steve Rogers, Face Slapping, Impact Play, M/M, Nomad Steve Rogers, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Steve Rogers, Pining, Post-Black Panther (2018), Power Bottom, Praise, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Reunion Sex, Reunions, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Secret Identity, Secret Societies, Sexual Fantasy, Steve Rogers goes on a journey, Sub Bucky Barnes, dom space, enthusiastic humiliation, face fucking, kink-negotiation, role-play, spitting, with a dick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-16 19:32:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14171919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: On the run and living off the grid in Amsterdam, Steve stumbles upon a very old and exclusive BDSM society. After rediscovering a side of his sexuality he’s long repressed, he accepts the society’s invitation for membership consideration. There’s just one catch - he must be approved by the head slave, and rumor has it, that guy can be a real jerk.





	1. Een

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was done in collaboration with my wonderful artist, [Puddingpong](http://puddingpong.tumblr.com), whose work will be featured in the very last chapter.
> 
> Thank you to UnicornMister and Nonush for beta'ing and to the MCU Kink Bang Mods for coordinating this bang.

The streets were bright and cracked in some places, the only evidence left that snow and ice had been there. Tulips, hyacinths, and daffodils were in full bloom, and Steve took mental pictures of the reds, oranges, and blues lining the sidewalks as he made his way to his apartment. The row houses seemed more colorful than ever. A brisk breeze kissed Steve’s face and he closed his eyes for a moment. It felt good. The freezing wind of winter was gone, but just barely. There was just enough of a chill in the air to cool Steve’s hot blood. Amsterdam in the spring was nothing like Wakanda right now. Which was the point. 

The change of scenery was supposed to put distance between Steve and bad memories. He wasn’t naive enough to think he could outrun his past or the guilt and regret, but in Amsterdam he didn’t have to face constant reminders of them. 

Settling in was easy; Steve didn’t have much, just some essential toiletries, a few clothes, and two pictures- one of him and Bucky taken by the Wakandian scientists right before Bucky went into cryo, and a picture of him, Sam, Clint, Wanda, and Scott a few weeks after Steve broke them out of Raft prison.

Steve’s new place was a dingy little apartment in the worst Jordaan neighborhood. The landlady, Ms. Jansen, let him pay rent under the table. Everyone in the neighborhood there had their own problems, and the unofficial rule was to mind your business and stay clear of others. Steve loved it. 

It only took a week for him to find a job moving furniture for the landlady’s son, Michael. He was easy going and uninterested in Steve’s face. Sometimes Michael would glance at Steve to make sure his directions were understood, but other than that he kept his eyes on the money and the furniture they were moving. It was easy work. Steve often had to pretend things were much heavier than they were, which he was good at. It was steady money in a city where transients were constantly passing through. 

Within a few months, Steve had developed a routine. Go to work, come home, make dinner, watch television, go to bed. He kept time by what television show was playing. 

Two months into exile and living off the grid, Steve had given up the shield and dropped the Captain America title to become a couch potato. It was almost comfortable, but not quite. No matter how many times he ran in place or did push ups in his living room, an itch remained beneath his skin, just out of his reach. And it was damn near impossible trying not to think about Bucky. 

Once, Steve thought he’d actually saw Bucky in the grocery store. But the guy had disappeared in the blink of an eye. Steve figured it had been a figment of his longing and guilt. He tried not to dwell on his failings and what could have been, but he often failed at that as well.

Amsterdam was supposed to be a new beginning. Easier said than done. Calling Sam or Clint sometimes helped, but not always. He had to limit his contact with them while they negotiated extradition and release time. Steve understood; they had families, people back at home. 

Besides General Ross, there was no one in America waiting for Steve.

So he became very comfortable in his crappy Jordaan apartment, sitting on his ugly couch, watching his little 24 inch thrift store television. Occasionally, he’d step outside, walk along the canal or have a drink at the neighborhood bar. But he was done with searching for anything more, this was his life now. 

 

* 

It was a tough day. The last move of the day had been complicated by an overprotective old man who micromanaged how everything was lifted and where it was placed. They rearranged the guy’s house twice before being let go. 

Steve wasn’t really tired, but the strain of being ordered around like that wound him up tight and by the end he was ready to burst like a gasket. Sitting at home wasn’t going to give him release, so he found himself at a local bar, _Tripel_ , trying to relive the memory of what alcohol used to do for him several lifetimes ago.

Tucked in the corner at the bar, he could people watch and keep his eyes on the door with his back protected, just in case.

The guy next to him had been there too long and had veered from an annoying drunk to belligerent asshole in the span of an hour. He was loud, rude, and talking down to the bartender who had the patience of a saint as he tried to get the guy to calm down. 

Steve was no saint.

“Hey, you wanna pipe down?” he said, using his ‘son, just don’t’ voice. “Bartender said you’re done. You’re drunk and disturbing everyone, so I’m going to give you two choices - either be quiet or pay up and leave. If you can’t decide between the two, I’ll choose for you.”

The guy sized Steve up, then grunted. As he stumbled from the bar stool he fumbled with his wallet. 

“Kolere!” he slurred under his breath, throwing down twenty Euro. 

Steve watched as he swayed on his feet and finally walked away.

“Dank je,” the bartender said with a grateful smile. 

Steve gave a slight nod, took a sip of his drink, and froze. 

Slowly, with practiced casualness, he looked up and locked eyes with a stunning grey-haired woman with hazel eyes. Her silver hair and the lines around her eyes suggested she was at least fifty, maybe even sixty. She was elegant, perhaps it was her poise, and the confidence she radiated. 

She rose gracefully, taking her tall martini glass with her, and walked right up to Steve. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked in a thick Danish accent, indicating the empty seat next to him.

Steve shook his head, watching her warily. Her gaze lingered for a moment and then she pulled out the bar stool to sit. The instinct to assist her was strong, but Steve tamped down on it. Natasha used to warn him, chivalry could kill you in their line of work. 

“Victoria,” she said, extending a slender manicured hand.

Steve braced himself for anything as he shook her hand gently. “Hello, Victoria.”

“And you are?” she asked, her bright eyes measuring Steve in a way that made his hackles rise. 

“Minding my business, Ma’am,” Steve said, withdrawing his hand to grasp his tumbler and take a sip of whiskey.

She smiled. It looked genuine. Older or not, she was a looker. 

“I just wanted to personally thank you for taking care of that nuisance.”

“That’s not necessary. It was my pleasure,” Steve said with a small obligatory smile.

“Oh, but I insist.” With a simple head nod, she motioned for the bartender.

Steve didn’t miss how quickly the young man jumped from one side of the bar to get to her. It was rather impressive.

“Yes, Ma’am?” the bartender asked. 

“Please, top me off and bring another drink for my new friend.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Steve shook his head. “You really shouldn’t. I’m about to leave.”

Victoria sighed. “So soon? I’d hope to at least share one drink. Can’t you humor an old gal? I’d love to tell my girlfriends I spent my evening with a strapping young man.”

Steve snorted and then felt his face grow hot. He’d forgotten himself momentarily. If she was a spy, she was very good.

“Sure. One drink,” he said stiffly. His awareness of his surroundings, his body, her, was becoming hypervigilant.

“New in town or just passing through?” she asked once she got settled.

Steve tried to affect nonchalance as he took a sip. “What makes you think I’m not from here?”

She laughed like he’d said the most amusing thing, and the very last of Steve’s hope for some peace and quiet evaporated.

Bone tired and a little sad that his cover was blown, Steve looked her straight in the eye. “Look, let’s cut the charade. I really don’t want to fight you, or anyone else you got lurking around, but I will if I have to. How about we take this outside and leave these nice innocent people out of it.”

Victoria smiled warmly and leaned in. She smelled good, a mixture of roses and something sweet. Steve quickly scanned her again. If she had weapons, they were well hidden.

“If I didn’t know who you were, I would now,” she said with a sly smirk.

Steve mentally face-palmed himself. Somewhere in the world, Natasha was cackling. 

“What do you want?” he asked curtly because spy or not, Victoria wanted something. 

“I am having a party tonight, and I’d like to invite you. I usually do not invite strangers, but, in your case, I am willing to make an exception.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Why?”

“Because you have proven to be a man of exceptional character, and you’re pretty damn good-looking,” she shrugged. “I cannot lie. Sometimes I’m shallow, and those baby blues and beard are working quite well for you.”

Steve scoffed. “That’s it? You just expect me to walk into your ‘party’ and give myself up because you buttered me up? Give me some credit, lady.”

Victoria did this thing with her eyebrows that reminded Steve of Peggy and how she used to react when she thought he was being dramatic. 

“Darling,” she sighed. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but, you are in serious need of a party. You’re taking life far too seriously. The only thing you have to worry about at my party is a few swats to the bottom. And if that’s really not your scene, you don’t have to stay.”

Steve’s eyes swept the room once more. No one was looking at them and there were no shadows in the corner. Victoria appeared as if she was holding in an eye roll. Another Peggy-like expression. 

If this was a trap, it was a bizarre one. Either way, Steve’s interest was piqued, and frankly, he was tired of running. He liked Amsterdam, and the dingy little apartment in Jordaan was the closest thing he could call home.

“Place and time?”


	2. Twee

Steve packed his duffel bag, cleaned up, and left next month’s rent in an envelope for Ms. Jensen, just in case it was the last time he saw his apartment.

For the party, he kept his attire simple with a pair of barely broken-in black denim jeans and an expensive black cotton button down shirt Sam had goaded him into buying. He debated for five minutes about whether to add the sleek custom black belt with a vibranium buckle T’Challa had gifted him. Finally, he decided to put it on.

On the chance this was going to be a Hydra party, he had the Schrade Neck knife Bucky gave him right before he went into cryo. It was strategically concealed at his side for easy access.

The address Victoria had given him was near Vondelpark, a world away from the slum where he lived. When he arrived, the person standing outside was not Victoria. The guy was big enough to be a problem, and once again, Steve went into hyper alert mode as he approached.

“Name?” the man asked.

Steve simply looked at the man, who was studying him slowly from head to toe while talking to his watch. If this was a trap, it was very unorthodox. 

“Welcome,” the man finally said, turning the handle to open the door.

Steve gave him a slight nod and proceeded inside. Quickly scanning the perimeter for visible entrances, he immediately spotted a long staircase that led to somewhere he couldn’t see, a backlit door at the end of the corridor, and an open entrance to his right. The entire house appeared to be dimly lit. The hallway he stood in was long but radiated warmth. The atmosphere was cozy and relaxing. Perhaps it was the scent of lavender, the soft jazz playing in the background, or the soft murmur of voices coming from the next room. The owners of those voices cast hazy shadows along the hardwood floor which glowed deep orange in the candle light. A small cry came from around the corner, and Steve clenched his fist, ready to give assistance. The cry came again, followed by a moan and chuckles.

“Your coat, Sir?” a tall young man in a waiter’s uniform asked.

Steve considered declining, but there was nothing to indicate this was anything other than a party, and everything of value was in his wallet keychain, which he kept on him.

“Thank you,” he said, giving the man his sheepskin leather jacket.

There was more laughter, followed by a slapping sound that made Steve’s eyes go sharp. He rushed to the next room, and saw several people gathered around something in the corner. As the slapping sound continued, it was followed by moans of pleasure.

Steve had to close his mouth and forced his eyes away to take in the grand room. There were two exit points, one in the back and one on the right. Neither one was being guarded or blocked.

Rich tapestries of red, blue and gold decorated the walls along with fine art in heavy gilded frames. The floor was hardwood like the hallway, but there were two elaborate Indonesian rugs along the front and back of the room. It was brighter in this room with its numerous candles and the shaded wall sconces lighting the rest. 

Most of the guests were clad in black like Steve. Others were only wearing black accessories, with very little clothing. Their breasts and asses were out, accentuated by black garter belts, collars, and leather harnesses.

All of Steve’s hyper awareness bled out of him as he took in the faces of the guests. People stood in small groups, talking and laughing with good nature. Occasionally one of them would pet the person at their feet. 

Captivated, Steve stood there, staring. When a delicate hand landed on his shoulder, he jumped a little and noticed that the people in the corner of the room had moved on.

“I’m so happy you came,” Victoria said. “I was beginning to think you were just being polite.”

She was stunning in a form fitting leather jumper with a crystal belt and matching crystal choker. There was a small black whip on her hip and Steve raised his eyebrows when he saw it.

She chuckled. “Surprised?”

“You could say that,” Steve said.

She was about to respond when a young man ran up to her. He was wearing a leather harness and skimpy leather bikini briefs.

“Mistress,” he said, bowing his head.

“Yes, Daniel? What is it?”

“May I sit out tonight? I’m feeling rather woozy. I apologize.”

Victoria caressed his cheek and smiled. “Of course. This is just play darling. Remember that. Your health and well being comes before anything. As a matter of fact, why don’t you tell Alise and John to take the rest of the night off as well. All of you have been working so hard. Put your feet up, enjoy the food, and feel free to take a nap in one of the guest rooms.”

Daniel’s entire posture relaxed and he gave Victoria a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Mistress.”

He smiled up at Steve and nodded an acknowledgement before walking away.

Steve looked down at Victoria with a new appreciation. 

She chuckled. “Sometimes the new ones take this lifestyle too seriously. Those of us with more experience, hopefully, have the wisdom to know better. I try to remind my submissives that no matter how masochistic they are- this thing we do should always be safe and fun.”

“I like your attitude,” Steve said, giving her a nod of approval. “So this is a lifestyle for you?”

Victoria tilted her head up, her eyes assessing Steve in a way that made him feel exposed. “If I say ‘yes’, would you think less of me?”

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “It’s just that…I’ve never met anyone who really lived this way openly. Me and Bu--- um, my former partner, we used to just play around, you know? Nothing serious like this.”

“It’s not _so_ serious,” Victoria winked. “And I wouldn’t call our lifestyle open. We’re discreet, but we’re not exactly hiding either.”

“I see,” Steve said, trying to imagine what a lifestyle involving whips and being called a Mistress entailed.

“So…do you see anything you like?” Victoria asked with a twinkle in her wise hazel eyes.

Steve looked around once more, and nodded towards the corner, where the group was just gathered.

“Not sure yet. What was so interesting over there?”

“Come,” Victoria said as she snaked her arm around his and leaned in like an old flame.

Steve looked down at her, completely charmed and a little baffled. Was she coming on to him or pulling him along because he didn’t know anyone? He couldn’t quite tell.

Several eyes turned to watch them, Victoria received many approving head nods and smiles. While she moved with confident grace, for the first time in several months, Steve ducked his head and dropped his eyes. He felt exposed under the gaze of the entire room, his beard a flimsy mask.

A gentle squeeze on his bicep drew his eyes to Victoria. 

“Relax. You’re in my home and among friends.”

“I don’t know these people. I don’t even know you,” Steve murmured.

“But you like me already, don’t you?” Victoria said, patting his hand.

Steve smiled and dropped his shoulders. “Maybe.”

Victoria beamed and nodded to the sight in front of them. There was a portly bald man bound to what could only be described as an elaborate spider web spanning the large and deep corner of the room. The man was naked except for the thick black collar around his neck, a set of black clamps on his nipples, and his cock was encased in some sort of plastic contraption. There were red stripes down his thighs.

“What do you think?” Victoria asked, her eyes assessing.

“It’s…nice,” Steve said, for lack of better words.

“Nice?” Victoria practically laughed.

Steve quickly tried to clarify. “I mean, the rope work, his binds, the entire web - it’s well done.”

Victoria narrowed her eyes. “Interesting. There’s a naked man strung up in front of you, and that’s what you notice. Not quite what I was expecting.”

Puzzled, Steve cocked his head. “And what were you expecting?”

Victoria bit her bottom lip, giving him a considering look. “I suppose I was hoping you’d be interested in trading places with him.”

Steve snickered and then felt bad for it. He didn’t want Victoria to think he was making fun of her. He reined it in and shook his head. 

“No offense, but just the thought of being restrained by anything would make me want to break out of it.”

Victoria hummed. “I see, but you like the aesthetic.”

Steve studied the man once more, the way he squirmed against and within his pretty binds like an insect caught in the most elaborate trap. The dazed look in his eyes and the rapture on his face stirred something in Steve, something he’d locked away a long time ago, but could never completely purge.

“Yes.”

“You do not wish to be bound, but can imagine yourself as the one who ties the binds?”

Steve glanced away from Victoria’s intense gaze and considered lying. But he was too curious about what the truth would yield. 

“Maybe.”

“You’ve thought about it before. Perhaps a lot,” she stated matter of factly. 

Steve was grateful for his beard and the low lighting; his face was hot.

“What about spanking?”

“What about it?” Steve asked. It came out as a husky whisper. It was embarrassing, even his voice sounded affected. The mention of spanking had unlocked a memory of him and Bucky before the war. 

Victoria began walking around him, her eyes measuring. Steve lifted his chin, defiant. A few lucky guesses didn’t mean she knew him. 

She stopped and crossed her arms. “If I were to sit down, right now, and ask you to lay across my lap so I could spank your bottom, would you?”

“No,” Steve replied quick and sure.

Victoria nodded. “But if I were to offer to lay across yours, would you consider spanking me?”

She was beautiful, albeit a lot older, but that wasn’t the problem here. He wasn’t ready to speak about the thing that had crawled up from his heart to sit on the tip of his tongue. 

“I would consider it, yes,” Steve finally said because why not? 

Victoria smirked. “But you would prefer to spank someone else, hmm? Someone in particular.”

It was a truth Steve had managed to keep to himself for a very long time. He certainly wasn’t about to confess it to a stranger. 

Victoria took his silence in good stride as she squeezed his hand. “Darling, please tell me you don’t play poker.”

Steve huffed out a chuckle. “I don’t. I’m a straight shooter and I make no apologies for it.”

She nodded. “Fair enough. Tell me, would you like to spank someone tonight?”

It would be easy to decline, Victoria was easy going, playful, and Steve knew she would not be offended if he said no. But Steve had been on the run and in hiding for nearly a year now, always watching his own six and ready to fight or flee. He didn’t quite feel at ease, but his interactions with Victoria and the laid back good natured cheer between the guests made him feel more comfortable. More comfortable than he’d felt in a long time. Comfortable enough to explore something he’d always been interested in. 

He nodded.

Victoria smiled, turned her head. Steve followed her gaze to the far side of the room, where a lithe shirtless man with black leather pants was kneeling. When Victoria lifted her hand, the man rose to his feet and walked right up to them.

The guy had short brunette hair, dark eyes, and a hell of a jawline. If Steve squinted just so, he believed the man could pass for Bucky, _before_. 

“My sweet boy, I want to introduce you to a new friend,” Victoria said.

“Hello,” the young man said, bowing his head. “Are you a Master?”

Steve frowned and looked to Victoria, who smiled. “That has yet to be determined. But he is a Top. Do you find him attractive?”

The man nodded, and looked up at Steve through dark eyelashes. He was sexy. “Very much so, Mistress. May I serve him?”

“You may. In fact, that is why I called you over. I think my friend would enjoy spanking your bottom.”

Steve watched the young man’s face for any sign of distress or hesitation, but he only received a demure smile and enthusiastic head nod. “Yes, please. I’d like that as well.”

“Good. Come over here and sit down.” Victoria pulled Steve’s arm towards the plush burgundy couch against the wall. 

Steve went where he was led and took a seat. The young man dropped to his knees before him and something stirred in his gut.

Taking a seat at the end of the couch, Victoria sat about two feet away from them and propped her arm on the back cushion to watch.

Under the gaze of her and the young man, Steve cleared his throat and adjusted himself to get more comfortable. He wanted to know the guy’s name, but he didn’t dare ask because he didn’t want to have to give his real name or a fake one. 

“Ready when you are,” he said tentatively.

The young man put his index finger in his mouth. “Would you like me to disrobe?”

Steve cleared his throat and glanced at Victoria. “Uh….no, over your pants is fine.”

The young man shrugged and crawled closer, then clamored onto Steve’s lap to lie over it.

The strong rush of lust momentarily stunned Steve and he froze as the young man in his lap wiggled and settled. The leather stretched and moved over his ass like a second skin. 

“Just, uh, tell me to stop or if you are uncomfortable,” Steve said cautiously.

“Okay,” the man replied.

“Now, now, you know better. What is your safeword?” Victoria chided.

Steve swallowed, suddenly feeling out of his element. 

The young man turned his head to look at Steve with a brazen smile. “I really don’t have one.”

“Jonathan,” Victoria said with a warning in her voice.

The young man, Jonathan, sighed and rolled his eyes. “‘Stop’ is fine. I won’t use it though. I have a really high pain tolerance.”

“Yes, you’re quite the masochist,” Victoria said with fondness. “But you have never received a spanking from someone this strong. Safety first, my dear.”

Jonathan looked up at Steve for a moment. Suddenly his eyes popped with recognition and Steve tensed. But Jonathan simply gave him a big goofy smile and then turned his head to bury his face into the couch. Steve gasped as Jonathan began to gyrate in tight circles against his lap.

It was very arousing, and for a moment, Steve could picture Bucky squirming against him. His eyelids fluttered as he imagined it. Reality nudged him as Jonathan let out a very un-Bucky like whimper. 

As sexy as Jonathan’s dry humping was, that was not the purpose of this. Steve put one hand on Jonathan’s neck and another on the back of his legs and pressed down.

Jonathan stilled, but his breathing was labored as he waited. It was making Steve hard. 

His first swat was gentle, and Jonathan barely reacted. So Steve gave him another one and Jonathan actually grunted in disapproval.

Victoria chuckled. “I know you’re exceptionally strong and you’re trying to be careful, but he’s not a delicate flower. He wants pain, give it to him.”

Steve gave her a skeptical look. Steve couldn’t shake the fear of accidentally hurting Jonathan, but he wanted to give Jonathan what he needed as well. 

“You’re a masochist?”

“Yes, Sir,” Jonathan practically pleaded.

“We’ll see,” Steve said quietly before bringing his hand down swift and steady.

Jonathan let out a surprised gasp. 

“Thank you, Sir,” he said breathlessly as he tried to raise his head against Steve’s steady grip. 

Steve licked his lips. A simple ‘thank you’ shouldn’t have been so intoxicating, but he wanted, no, needed, another sip. 

His hand came down quick and hard again, and elicited a muffled whimper. 

“More?” he asked.

Jonathan nodded.

“Can’t hear you,” Steve said.

“Yes, Sir. More please.”

“Very good,” Steve murmured. 

He delivered a series of blows, testing his restraint, always, always worried that he’d pushed too far. But true to his word, Jonathan seemed enraptured, no matter how hard the impact.

Then he went stiff and released a low guttural moan. Even through his jeans, Steve could feel the warmth of Jonathan’s release against his thigh.

Steve smiled, rubbing all of the areas he just hit. “How are you feeling?”

“So good, Sir,” Jonathan slurred. “So good.”

“Good.”

The adrenaline rush receded, but the feeling of it remained like lingering tingles from a taser.

“You’re a natural,” Victoria said, breaking Steve out of his haze. “Intuitive, caring, firm, protective. You’re good at this.”

“If you say so,” Steve replied quietly as he continued to caress Jonathan’s bottom. The young man was squirming again, leaving the distinct impression that Steve’s caresses were now more arousing than soothing.

“Jonathan?” Victoria says.

“Yes, Mistress?”

“Thank you for your service. You may visit the quiet room and relax for awhile.”

Jonathan rolled over slowly. He had a wrecked dazed look about him as he looked up at Steve with adoring eyes. “Thank you, Sir. I’ll be here all night if you need me.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”

Jonathan rose and walked off somewhere Steve’s eyes couldn’t follow. 

Victoria was still watching him and Steve’s self-consciousness returned. 

“Why do I get the feeling that was some sort of test?” he asked. 

She smiled. “ _So_ intuitive. In the interest of full disclosure, our meeting at the bar today was no accident.”

The unexpected stab of betrayal caught Steve off guard as he turned to glare at her. “You followed me?”

“You’ve been in Jordaan for some time. Your presence has not gone unnoticed. Yes, I was sent.”

“By who?” Steve demanded.

Victoria’s smile faded and she hummed. “I am not at liberty to say.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “So what do you really want then? Information? Money? I should warn you - I don’t respond well to blackmail and I’m not for hire.”

The laugh that bubbled out of Victoria was light and full of incredulity. “Oh darling, what have they done to you? You’re extremely paranoid. Look around. I have everything I want, and so do my friends. We have no interest in money, what you’re running from, or the secrets you keep.”

Confused, Steve scanned the party once more. No one was looking at them. People were engaged in conversation, or watching and participating in things he’d only dreamt about. 

“I am an elder for a very exclusive society,” Victoria explained. “A society designed for people with particular proclivities, some of which are on display here.”

“So why were you sent? What made whoever sent you think I’d be interested?” Steve asked.

Victoria shrugged. “To be honest, we weren’t sure if you would be. That is why you’re here. This party isn’t a test as much as an introduction. The one who sent me made me swear that you would not be pressured. If you are not interested, feel free to decline my invitation and I will not bother you again.”

Steve frowned, thinking. 

Bucky was the only person Steve had ever been kinky with, and that had been such a long time ago, before the war, when they both had different bodies. During the war, they only had a few stolen moments and they spent those holding on to each other and kissing like tomorrow had not been promised. And they were right. Fate had torn them asunder, time and time again. 

If Steve felt exposed before, now he felt flayed wide open. Someone had picked up on his desires just by watching him. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or angry. 

“And what exactly are you inviting me to?” Steve asked slowly. 

“Call it a soiree,” Victoria said, nodding at a man across the room. 

Steve watched as the man smiled at her and raised the whip in his hand to the lips of a naked woman bent over a wooden block. The naked woman kissed the whip reverently. 

“Attending obligates you to nothing,” Victoria continued. “If you like what you see, you will be screened for consideration. We take membership very seriously.”

Steve’s interest was piqued, but so was his doubt. He had never even held a whip before, and only five minutes ago he’d delivered his first spanking in this century. 

“I don’t have much experience with this stuff.”

Chuckling, Victoria scooted closer to rub shoulders with him. It was very disarming. Which only made Steve more suspicious. Sure, Victoria had been nothing but kind and welcoming, and Steve probably was being paranoid, but he really couldn’t afford not to be. 

Victoria seemed to sense that her efforts to make Steve relax were backfiring. She sighed. “I understand you have no reason to trust me. Really, it’s not complicated - either you attend or you don’t. No pressure, no obligation.”

Watching her face closely, Steve waited for a ‘but’ or ‘however’. It never came.

“The person who sent me did have a message for you,” Victoria said, her lips twisting into a smirk.

Steve raised his eyebrow in question.

“They told me to tell you to stop overanalyzing everything, and most of all, try not to be a drama queen.”

Surprised laughter nearly choked Steve. “Who the hell is this person?”

Victoria patted Steve’s thigh. “In due time, darling. In due time.”

Paranoia and suspicion spiking once more, Steve huffed. He mentally combed through every possible person he knew who had enough familiarity to call him a ‘drama queen’, and none of them knew about his sexual proclivities. At least he hoped not.

There was no prodding Victoria for more intel either; she remained silent. Steve chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment, thinking about the invite. 

Since Bucky had gone under, Steve had been wandering around the world, hiding while searching for a way to occupy his time. He’d volunteered when and where he could, helping people in need. It was easier than thinking of what he owed. It certainly was more acceptable than thinking of his own needs or desires. Not when the Avengers were scattered across the globe. Not when Sam, Wanda, Clint and Scott were struggling to find their way back to a normal life. Not when Tony was still reeling from the secret Steve had kept from him. And most certainly not when Bucky was knocked out in a coma because of the systematic torture and brainwashing he’d endured. 

Denying himself pleasure was Steve’s penance. 

“Ah, there it is, you’re doing it now,” Victoria said, drawing Steve out of his thoughts.

“Doing what?”

“Overanalyzing. It’s all over your face. Please stop. You’re going to kill my party, and then we can’t be friends.”

Steve breathed out a laugh. “Sorry….it’s just, this soiree, the society. It sounds great, just maybe not for me.”

“May I ask why you think it’s not for you?” Victoria asked delicately.

Steve looked down at the expensive rug. “Right now, for me, it seems a bit...self-indulgent? I have a lot of debts to pay. Not financial, but... “

“Are you telling me you don’t think you deserve to explore this side of yourself?” Victoria asked.

Steve frowned. “Yeah, I guess, that’s exactly what I’m saying. I need to focus on giving back, helping others, not ---”

“Healing?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Healing? Is that what you’re calling it?”

Victoria smiled. “It’s what we do. We free people from the shackles society has imposed on them, and the chains they’ve imposed on themselves.”

It was the perfect shot. It hit Steve right in the chest and he silently bid her to continue. Victoria nodded knowingly. 

“Many of our members have been mistreated or denied themselves pleasure because they thought they had to shoulder the burden of others to be of use to the world. But we do not believe that. Our practice focuses on self-reflection, healing, and cathartic release. The manner in which those are achieved is up to the person, but we believe you cannot achieve your full potential or help others until you find yourself.”

Victoria’s words sunk in and stuck to Steve like honey. In spite of his wariness, there was a growing anticipation and excitement bubbling up inside of him. 

Steve needed to know more. 

“Okay. I accept your invitation.”

Victoria's smile was brilliant. “Excellent. I don’t think you’ll regret it.”


	3. Drie

Google maps provided photographs of a Nijswiller Castle in Limburg, two and a half hours south of Amsterdam. Steve bought a charcoal suit to wear with his oxford black shirt and used his fake ID to acquire a rental sedan for the trip.

A historical castle in a remote rural location was the perfect headquarters for a lot of things and Steve couldn’t quite shake off his cynicism about who had sent Victoria. 

Normally Steve would have suspected Hydra, but he trusted his instincts, and they told him Victoria did not have nefarious intentions. As for the person who had sent her, Steve racked his brain for days over it. Just two years earlier, all logical clues would have pointed to Bucky. Bucky was the only person who had any inclination at all that Steve had kinky interests. But Bucky was tucked away in some science lab in Wakanda. 

Steve forcibly closed off that thought. He’d spent far too much time thinking of what he could have said or done to make Bucky change his mind, and he was tired of speculating about whether he’d ever see those pale blue eyes again. 

The drive out to the castle was peaceful and gave him space to think. He took in the beautiful Netherland countryside, listened to Dutch radio, and contemplated why he was drawn to being a dominant. 

When the castle came into view, it was a grand sight. The huge brick towers stuck out along the low snowy hills. Thankfully most of the ice had melted, but Steve drove carefully up the long pebble drive all the same. The hair on the back on his neck prickled as the distinct feeling he was being watched cascaded over him. Leaning forward, he peered up over the steering wheel to the castle and only saw darkened windows. 

Once again, he second-guessed his own judgement. Victoria made it clear that no weapons or toys were allowed, that they had to be pre approved before arrival and that there were strict security screenings at the door. Not wanting to disrupt things, Steve had decided to come unarmed as a show of good faith. He hoped he wouldn’t regret it.

He was asked who invited him at the door and then ushered in, where his coat was taken. The hallway was just as grand as the castle’s appearance would have suggested. He walked slowly down the wide corridor, taking in the beautiful terrazzano floor that made his hand long for a paint brush to capture it. The mirrors were obscenely grand and very old looking. Steve caught a glimpse of a grand ballroom in one.

The guests were congregated there. Steve entered the room, and a few eyes turned to look him over. Someone was playing on a a baby grand piano in the corner and there was a huge fireplace with a healthy fire. Several people were seated at a bar on the opposite side of the room, but when Steve went over to check it out the bartender listed his choices as, “Sparkling, spring, purified, mineral, flavored, and carbonated, Sir.” 

“Sparkling please,” he said, though he would’ve preferred something stronger.

Steve took a seat in one of the oversized mahogany chairs near the fire, where he could watch the room. There were about twenty-five to thirty people scattered throughout. 

Some of the new guests who had arrived were wearing more revealing clothing than the standard dinner party fare. There were men and women in beautiful tailored tuxedos, cocktail dresses and ballroom gowns, but there were also people in tuxedo jackets with no shirt, and sheer and leather dresses that left little to the imagination. 

The seasoned guests were obvious - they smiled and milled about greeting one another like old friends catching up. Others like Steve were a little stiff, eyes darting about, trying to gauge the rest of the room and how they may fit into it. 

A dark-haired, middle aged woman wearing a black chiffon party dress took a seat across from him and smiled. 

“First time?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah.”

“I can’t believe I finally received an invite,” she said with excitement. “I’d given up on ever getting one.”

Steve raised his eyebrows. “It’s that exclusive?”

The woman laughed like Steve was being silly and Steve smiled like he really had been joking. She waved at someone and quickly rose to greet them.

Steve took another sip of his water and shored up the gumption it took to be charming and sociable. He liked people, he really did, but for the past year, he’d worn aloofness as a cloak to help conceal his identity. It’d grown comfortable, almost like a second skin. Being sociable required flexing an underused muscle. 

The weight of an intense stare pressed upon his senses. Steve scanned the room. No one was looking back at him but there was quick movement just beyond the room, in the grand hallway. He stood up and spotted a shadowy figure retreating near the edge of the entrance. Then it was gone. The urge to investigate was strong, but Steve reminded himself that he was a guest. He wasn’t even sure what he would do if he did find someone over there. He’d look silly and paranoid. 

Which he reasoned could be true. Being a fugitive tends to bring that out in people.

Steve tried to shift his focus and find some friendly faces. Standing near the bar was a small group of guests - two men and two women. Despite their best efforts, they all appeared anxious. It was the nervous smiles and furtive glances that gave them away. Steve walked up to them and they made room to accommodate him. When they asked for his name, he gave them something common and bland.

“John.”

One of the guys in the group grinned. “I’m Tom,” he said conspiratorially, nodding to the other guests. “And this is Ken, Ann, and --”

“Erm, Louise?” said the tall brunette with a small shrug.

They all chuckled and the tight coil in Steve’s gut unfurled a little. 

“So, first time for everyone?” Steve asked, because that’s what the other guest had just asked him.

Most of them nodded. 

“Actually, this is my second time,” said the short redheaded woman named ‘Ann’. She wore a low cut silk cocktail dress with a tight silver choker on her neck. Steve wondered if it was supposed to imitate a collar.

“Are you a submissive?” Steve tried to ask casually, but it came out awkward and stilted.

She gave him a kind smile. “Yes. Are you?”

He shook his head. “No, I’m….the opposite, I guess.”

“You guess? Are you a switch?” the one named ‘Louise’ asked. 

“Ah, no. I mean, I don’t think so?” Steve said.

“They’ll let you know for sure,” Tom said and the rest of them all nodded knowingly, which piqued Steve’s interest even more. 

“Just pray you don’t get paired with the head slave,” Ken said.

Tom shook his head. “I think they only sic him on the troublemakers.”

“Or the ones they’re unsure of. At least that’s what I heard,” said Louise.

Steve frowned, still trying to process the word ‘slave’. “They have slaves?”

Ann nodded. “Well, yes, but it’s not as hardcore as it sounds. The society’s slaves are just really very experienced submissives. Everyone gets paired with one, whether you’re a dominant, submissive, or a switch.”

“They’re supposed to be skilled in identifying your weaknesses,” Louise added. “And strengths so you can grow in your journey, on whatever path you’re on.”

Steve raised eyebrows. “That almost sounds spiritual.”

“It can be,” Tom said. “I’m kinda hoping it is actually.”

“But the head slave, he’s…” Ken looked around the group, like he was seeking assistance.

Steve followed his eyes. “He’s what?”

“Well no one’s actually seen the guy,” Tom jumped in. “But he’s been here less than six months and already he has _quite_ the reputation. People say he’s drop dead gorgeous but scary looking.”

“Well, from what I hear,” Louise said. “if you’re trying to join for the wrong reasons, or aren’t really ready, he will break you down.”

“I heard he’s made a few doms cry,” Ken says. 

Tom actually visibly swallowed and Steve held in a snort. The mythos surrounding this head slave was off-putting and a bit ridiculous. This was supposed to be about having fun, not making people feel bad. 

“He sounds like a jerk,” Steve said with a frown. “I don’t like bullies.”

Ann shook her head. “I don’t think he’s a bully, just very protective of submissives. Personally, I feel safer knowing there’s someone here screening out abusers.”

Steve nodded slowly, still skeptical. He was just about to ask just how they ‘sorted people’ when the piano music stopped. Voices fell silent and everyone turned their eyes toward the front of the ballroom. There, in front of the fire stood three men and two women, Victoria was one of them. In a sea of black, she stood out in her red silk jumper with a plunging neckline and long diamond rope pendant. She looked stunning.

“Good evening and welcome to Nijswiller,” a man with salt and pepper whiskers said to the room. His voice carried well without a microphone and something about him exuded leadership. “Some of you already know me, the rest of you will get to know me as the night goes on. I am Arthur, president of the society, and standing with me are the other elders of the society.”

“We are very excited you all could come. There will be a tour of the castle later, for those who are interested. First things first, though, one ground rule.” 

Arthur clapped his hands like he’s about to teach a class. There was palpable anticipation and all eyes were on him. 

“Tonight, we are here to get to know each other. That being said, each of you were invited because we believe you are capable of discretion and may bring value to our society. Please do not disappoint us. Whatever you see or hear here, stays here. Agreed?”

Everyone nodded, and Arthur smiled. “Thank you kindly. Well, I’ve spoken enough. Let the party continue!”

With that, the piano began playing once more, and the room filled with voices. 

Steve was just getting comfortable with his little group when someone pulled at his forearm. 

It was Victoria. 

“Hello, Darling.”

“Hi,” Steve said, smiling.

“So glad that all of you could come,” she said to the group. “I trust you are enjoying yourselves?” 

They all murmured agreement, but Steve noticed they looked much more reserved than they did previously.

“Good,” Victoria said. “I look forward to getting to know each of you. I apologize, but if you don’t mind, I need to pull this one away.”

Steve looked at Victoria in surprise, and told the group it was great speaking to them and he hoped to see them later. 

Everyone in the group wished him the same, but they went silent, even after Steve and Victoria began walking away.

Steve glanced behind him where the hall was suddenly large and empty, the voices from the ballroom faint. 

“Did you just break some sort of protocol?” he asked quietly.

“Darling, everything about you being here breaks protocol,” Victoria replied. “It’d be silly to start playing by the rules now.”

Annoyance flared and Steve tried to keep it out of his voice as he responded. “I thought you said you weren’t interested in my past, why are you guys singling me out?”

Victoria smiled the same secretive smile Steve was starting to associate with her coy answers. “We are not interested in your past or your identity. But that does not mean your past is not your future.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t like games, and I’m this close to just walking away. I trusted you.”

“And I’m flattered,” Victoria said, covering her heart. “Your trust has not been misplaced.”

“I don’t want special treatment,” Steve said, frowning.

Victoria sighed. “Our mutual friend said you’d say that. What’s done is done, and we need to get on with it.”

Steve actually stopped in his tracks, and Victoria almost tripped. “Mutual friend? So the person who sent you claims to be a friend of mine?”

“You are relentless, aren’t you?” Victoria chuckled with fond exasperation. “I suppose that served you well in your former life. However, this new path you’re on requires patience.” 

It was not something Steve was very good at, but he was too damn invested in seeing where this rabbit hole ended to protest, so he followed when Victoria resumed walking.

The grand hallway went on forever before Victoria finally stopped in front of a large aged oak door with a large intricate black iron-cast ”V”.

“What does that stand for?”

“Our name's sake.”

“Which is?” Steve pressed, growing irritated at Victoria’s dogged coyness.

She gave a regretful smile. “If you are judged to be fit for membership, you will learn our name and much more.”

“And who decides if I’m fit for membership?” Steve demanded as she turned the doorknob. 

“The society, ” Victoria replied, opening the door. 

A rush of warm air hit Steve full in the face. He unfastened his bowtie and pulled it off to undo his collar. Victoria gave him an approving once-over and shook her head.

“It’s such a shame you’re not submissive,” she said as she began to descend down a long grey-stone staircase.

Questions about how Victoria discovered her own path as a mistress, how she became an elite, danced on Steve’s tongue, but he held them. 

Victoria already made it very clear she had no plans to entertain his questions right now. 

The long and winding staircase was lit by fancy electric torches set along the stone walls. Like the rest of the castle, the history of the place was visible everywhere, but several things about the structure had been updated for modern conveniences. 

The deeper they descended, the more anxious Steve grew. He didn’t even realize he was so wound up until he heard his knuckles crack.

Victoria’s eyes swept over him and she reached out to squeeze his hand. “Relax. There is a good reason I’m not telling you things. I’m not trying to trick you or hide anything. You already know far more than most people do on their first visit.”

“I do?” Steve said in surprise.

“Yes. No one comes down here on their first visit, and yet, here you are.”

Steve exhaled a little. “So can you tell me who owns this place?” 

“We do,” Victoria replied. “Members of the society pay dues. The society also offers weekly tours of the castle to outsiders, and once a month we sponsor a very popular brunch in the grand ballroom. It all helps to subsidize the cost of upkeep and housing.”

“Housing?” Steve murmured as they reached the bottom of the stairs, where there was a large cathedral opening with a frosted glass door. 

“Yes, we have quarters for the elites and members who choose to stay here. And this section of the castle is reserved for our slave quarters.”

Steve looked through the glass, it only revealed another long hallway. 

“I was told they’re not really slaves?” Steve said with a edge in his voice. The word slave made him uncomfortable.

Victoria nodded. “Yes, the society recognizes true submissive slavery, we do not own any of our own. Ours are slaves in name only.”

“But why--”

“It’s a turn on,” Victoria said with a half-shrug. “Master/slave play is a big kink among society members, but you should know that our training slaves have full autonomy. They may submit or not if they please, and they are allowed to refuse a dominant, if they are uncomfortable.”

Tension in Steve’s shoulders bled out in relief. 

Victoria smiled. “I thought you’d appreciate that.”

“So, these ‘slaves’...they live here full time?”

“Yes,” Victoria said. “We provide them everything - shelter, food, clothing. All we ask in return is for their service and insight. They help identify who should be considered for membership - submissives, dominants, switches, and everything in between. They also assist in their training, whatever that may consist of.”

Steve knew his face reflected surprise; it all sounded counter-intuitive.

“We believe submission is a gift,” Victoria said, as if reading his mind. “That means the submissive holds the power in such arrangements until they choose to give it up. This model has suited us for over a hundred years, and it lays the foundation for respecting submissives.”

There was some sort of electrical key detector mounted in the stone, it reminded Steve of a hotel security system. Victoria placed her hand on the keypad and the large glass door slid open.

They walked down a long dark corridor with many doors like the one in the grand hallway, except this hallway had a deep lush red carpet that absorbed each of Steve’s steps. He thought it was like walking on a cloud. 

Next to each door, there was a name, a picture, and a list of some sort. 

Steve stopped in front of the first one to read what was written. “Daisy” was a pretty blonde with striking green eyes. She went by ‘her/she/hers’ pronouns and had been a practicing submissive for over a decade. Her limits were scat, branding, and electricity. 

“Electricity?” Steve murmured. He couldn’t even fathom how electricity could be used in that way. 

“You like women?” Victoria asked, cutting through Steve’s thoughts. 

“Uh, yeah, I’m bisexual,” Steve said, a little more defensively than he’d intended.

“So you don’t have a gender preference for your training,” Victoria said matter-of-factly.

Steve opened his mouth and then closed it, thinking. He had so many questions, but the way Victoria’s eyes gleamed made him think that her question was a tricky one. 

Instead of replying, Steve walked on, reading each of the name plates and descriptions. The faces were only of minor interest. He cared more about their profiles. Steve wanted something compelling to jump out at him, a description or phrase that spoke to his soul. It was stupid and naively romantic, but well, if you had told him he’d be wandering the halls of a castle looking for a good slave just a week earlier, he would have said that was stupid as well.

At the end of the hallway there was one last door. There was no name plate, picture, list of pronouns, or limits. Only one phrase, centered and engraved across the door in small black cursive letters. It was written in Dutch. 

****

**een riem heeft twee uiteinden - wie is de leider en wie is de gevangene**

Steve’s Dutch was shoddy, he was still learning, but he thought he might have the gist of it. Victoria looked amused, like she admired his effort but didn’t quite believe he understood.

“It reads,” she said. “‘a leash has two ends - who is the captor, who is the captive?”

Steve had to force himself to take a breath and not get too excited. Those words pulled at something in his chest, gave him a funny spark of hope. But they were just words, it wasn’t enough to pin anything on.

“Whose door is this?” he asked in a hoarse voice.

Victoria bit her bottom lip, her eyes looked mischievous. “Our head slave. You’ll meet him shortly.”

Steve’s eyes went sharp as his hope broke and turned to disappointment. “Why? I thought I got to choose?”

“Oh, you do,” Victoria said. “That’s why I brought you down here. I want you to get an idea of the type of selection we have. But before you can choose a training slave, you must have a session with the head slave.”

Steve huffed. “What if I don’t want one with him? I heard he’s usually paired with troublemakers or suspected abusers. I can assure you I’m neither.”

Victoria chuckled. “You may not be an abuser, darling, but you’re definitely trouble. And you really mustn’t put stock in the newbie gossip. They know nothing about the society. The head slave is rather….intimidating, but if he likes you, he’s a big ole’ softie.”

“And if he doesn’t like you?” Steve pressed.

Victoria shrugged. “Then, yes, you may have cause to worry.”

There was something else Victoria was not saying, Steve could tell from the smug little purse of her lips and the way her eyes twinkled in the torchlight as she stared back him him. But he was done playing this game of hers. Whatever the society had planned, Steve wanted it out in the open so he could make a decision about whether or not he wanted to be a part of their kinky little club.

“When can I meet him?”

“Tonight if you like,” she said.

Steve nodded. “Good, let’s do it right now.”

“My, you really are a bossy one,” she said as she rapped on the door. It was some sort of signal like Morse Code.

There was muffled shuffling and the door creaked open, revealing only a narrow dark peek into the other side. All that Steve could make out was a white wall and the faint yellow glow of soft lamplight.

“Ja?” came a heavily accented masculine voice that sounded both foreign and familiar at once. Perhaps it was the tone. 

Steve leaned in unconsciously, to hear better. 

“He’s here,” Victoria announced. Steve went rigid, expecting for the door to be flung open any minute, but instead, they received a non-committal hum.

“He says he’d like to meet you tonight, if you’re up for it?” Victoria posed. 

It was frustrating. Steve doesn’t like anyone speaking for him. 

“Actually, I’d prefer to meet you right now,” Steve blurted out. It sounded more like a challenge than a question, and well, that’s exactly how he meant it.

There was a long pause, and then finally, “Een half uur. Agatha speelkamer.” 

The door closed and the sound of the lock clicking in place echoed in the hallway. 

Steve quirked an eyebrow in question at Victoria. “Friendly guy.”

She shrugged. “Pot meet kettle.”

Steve scoffed. He wasn’t rude, just sick of playing games. Perhaps he had been a tad bit too aggressive in his introduction. 

“He’ll be ready for you in half an hour,” she said with a small smile. “Come, I’ll take you to the Agatha playroom, it’s on the other side of the castle. Follow me.”

*

They traveled through a series of underground tunnels and secret doors, most protected by fingerprint protocols. Steve was impressed. So far, the security in the castle rivaled SHIELD before it fell. 

Steve wanted to ask about it but knew he wouldn’t get a satisfactory answer. He tried to listen and chat amicably with Victoria about the history of the castle and all of the playrooms it had. It was good information, but it was difficult for Steve to really focus. Uneasy anticipation about this meeting with the head slave stole his concentration. 

The guy’s voice had been husky, and in the four or five words he’d uttered, there was an easy self-assuredness of a supervisor or manager. 

Suddenly it occurred to Steve that meeting the head slave might be more of an interrogation.

“Is this going to be an interview, or a session like your party?”

“I’m not sure,” Victoria said. “That all depends on how things go between you two.”

She stopped before a huge black wooden cathedral door with deep carvings depicting a man on his knees. Steve ran his hand over the raised ridges, fascinated with the detailing. 

Inside, the room was comparably small to the other rooms in the castle, and much darker. There were some electric torchlights along the wall, but they seemed to be strategically placed to cast light on the equipment, leaving the rest of the room in virtual darkness. From what Steve could see, there was hardwood from wall to wall, except for a red circular rug in front of a large leather chair outlined with metal studs.

Victoria caressed a blue and black whip on the rack where there were many. Steve admired its craftsmanship. It certainly was pretty, but it wasn’t pretty enough to distract him. The uneasiness about meeting the head slave was souring his mood.

“When you said it depends on how things go…” Steve said. “You’re leaving one of your slaves in the hands of a stranger. Isn’t that dangerous?”

Victoria stopped caressing the flogger and turned to address Steve. “If you’re worried about the safety of our slaves, don’t. They’re very strong and capable, especially the one you’re about to meet.”

“There’s no standard protocol for how we should interact?” Steve pressed, suddenly feeling a little out of his depth.

Victoria gave him a kind smile. “We’ve learned, over a century, that imposing uniform procedures is stifling. Every dominant, sub, and switch is different and so are the relationships they cultivate with each other. You and your training slave will make rules, and break them according to your needs and theirs.”

“But _he’s_ not going to be my training slave, right?” Steve asked.

Instead of replying, Victoria’s eyes slid past Steve’s face to the door behind him. 

Steve hadn’t heard anyone come in, but that didn’t stop the hairs from standing on the back of his neck. He whirled around. 

There was someone there just out of the torchlight’s reach. Steve could barely make out the person’s outline, but there were glimpses of gold lines that flickered like fireflies, only these lines were like thin chains. 

Steve squinted his eyes and stepped closer.

“Stay there,” said the same husky masculine voice from earlier.

Steve stopped and clenched his fists. 

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Victoria said, bowing slightly. “Have fun.”

There was smile in her voice, and Steve turned his head to look at her, but she was already making her way through another hidden door in the stone. 

The door closed with a heavy grinding finality that ramped up Steve’s foreboding about this meeting.

“What’s your name?” Steve asked. It sounded like a demand, but he couldn’t help it. This guy still hadn’t shown his face, and based on the rumors, Steve already had a bad feeling about him. 

“I’ll ask the questions,” the man said. Something familiar lay beneath his heavy accent, like the first few keys of an old song long forgotten but Steve couldn’t place it. “You may think yourself a dominant, but I have the final say on whether you are and if you belong here.”

Steve huffed. “I know what I am. I don’t need anyone’s opinion about that.”

There was a deep sigh in the dark, and once again Steve heard something recognizable in it. Bucky used to always sigh like that when he was at his wits end about something Steve did or said.

Steve closed his eyes and scolded himself. That was more than wishful thinking - it was pure delusion. 

Bucky was in cryo, and life went on without him. Steve learned that the hard way when he stood vigil by Bucky’s cryo machine for months and nothing changed. 

“That attitude of yours?” said the man. “That’s exactly why we’re meeting right now. Anyone can call themselves a dominant, but a real one would not have a problem with receiving feedback, especially from a submissive.”

Steve frowned. “I don’t have a problem with feedback. I do have a problem with a stranger who can’t show his face while sizing me up.” 

“Is this really how you want to begin?” the man asked, there was exasperation in his voice but something else. If Steve didn’t know better, he’d think it sounded like fondness, but that didn’t make sense. 

“Because I was kind of rooting for you,” the man said. He sounded closer. “But I have to give an honest assessment.” 

Steve stared hard into the darkness, but could barely make out an outline. 

“Why would you root for me? You don’t even know me,” Steve said more sharply than he intended. Even to his own ears, he could understand how he may be perceived as trouble, but this entire situation was leaving him off-centered.

“Maybe I don’t,” said the man, quietly, and this time there was sadness in his words. It seemed ridiculous, yet it pulled at something deep within Steve. “But I’m trying to rectify that. You have to be open enough to let me try, or there’s no point in going further. The choice is yours.”

It would have been so simple to just walk away. Steve had no real ties to the castle or anyone in it. Victoria was nice and interesting, but she was only a casual acquaintance. However, even as Steve stood there, in warrior’s stance, staring into the darkness, he knew he didn’t want to give it up. He had no idea how far down this hole went, but he wanted to chase it to the end. He held a distant hope that if he did, he’d discover pieces of himself along the way. 

“I’m not leaving,” he said in a much softer tone.

For the first time, the sound of the man’s footsteps registered. Steve stiffened, bracing himself for anything. The footsteps stopped, just shy of the circle of light on the floor right in front of Steve. 

“Good. Turn around.”’

Steve’s first instinct was to protest, but this was about showing openness. Maybe that’s what the head slave was assessing - trust. 

So Steve nodded slowly and turned around, his body a tight coil ready to spring if this guy tried anything funny.

“Walk to the center of the room and sit down,” came the order.

There was a large red silver-leaf chair that matched the circular rug. It was facing away from them. 

Steve took long strides to get to it, never looking back, and sat down. There were more footsteps from behind that suddenly stopped. From the sound of it, the guy was standing maybe three to five feet away. 

“Why are you here?” the man asked.

Steve huffed. “I was invited.”

“Why did you accept the invitation?” 

Steve swallowed. “Because this society and the things it does interests me.”

“Why?”

Geez, this guy and his ‘why’ questions. 

Steve glanced up at the ceiling like the answer could be found there. “I suppose I like the idea of a safe place where people can be who they want and explore this side of them.”

“What side is that?”

Oh for Pete’s sake. Was this guy really going to make Steve say it? He pursed his lips.

“This side of their sexuality,” Steve said trying to hide his frustration. “You know, what they call kink.”

“And what are _your_ kinks?” the man asked without missing a beat. “How would you categorize yourself?”

Steve folded his hands in his lap. He’d never really had to vocalize his sexual interests. When it came to Bucky, Steve never had to talk about it. Before the war, before everything, it was just him and Bucky. Everything they did together was a new adventure. One night, Steve slapped Bucky’s ass to antagonize him and Bucky’s unexpected moan both shocked and aroused him. But it was just another adventure; a new path for them to explore, together. 

Steve never dreamed he’d ever be talking about that path with a complete stranger. He was suddenly very grateful he couldn’t see the guy’s face.

“I’ve always been….” he stopped, annoyed at his inability to find words, and started over again. “Being dominant isn’t something I really have to think about. I’ve always been this way, so it make sense for it to just come out during sex.”

“So this is just about sex for you?”

Steve frowned, thinking. “No. I mean, it does turn me on to be in control, but...” Piecing it together in his head, Steve spoke slowly as he worked it out. “Being in control isn’t the _only_ thing I like about it. There’s something.... intimate and powerful about someone giving me control.”

“What makes it powerful?” the guy asked in a careful voice that made Steve think of SHIELD shrinks. Perhaps that’s the point - to get into Steve’s head. 

Steve shifted in the chair and stared down at his clasped hands. “I like taking care of people. Watching over them, making sure they’re okay. Whether that means fighting for them or helping them out, I--”

“So you think submissives are weak?” the man asked. There was an edge in his voice that made Steve look up. If only he could see the guy’s face. “You think they need someone like you to help them out?”

“I didn’t say that,” Steve snapped. “That’s not what I meant at all. You didn’t let me finish. I want my partner to trust that I can and will take care them. That means a lot to me because I like taking care of people. But it doesn’t mean I think submissives can’t take care of themselves. I’m actually attracted to strong people. I like to be challenged.”

The man hummed and stepped closer. If Steve turned his head, surely he’d see the guy’s face clearly. It took another deep breath and mental reminder that this was a test to keep from looking.

“Let me get this straight,” the man said with amusement in his voice. “You like being challenged, but you also like being in control. Aren’t those two things incompatible?”

Steve glared at the stone wall in front of him. Whoever this guy was, he was twisting everything around, trying to make Steve sound like an idiot who didn’t know anything about himself. 

“It’s a bit more nuanced than that,” Steve said as patiently as he could manage. “I’d like my partner to be independent, with a mind and will of their own. For someone like that to see something in me that’s trustworthy enough to put their faith in….that’s powerful.”

“I see,” said the man in a low tone that suggested he wasn’t talking to Steve at all but to himself. “So you’re not just looking for someone to whip or use?”

Steve wrinkled his brow, frowning. “No.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” the head slave said somewhat defensively. “There are people in the society who enjoy that, both top and bottom.”

Steve shook his head. “I’m not judging anyone here. If that’s what people are into, that’s fine. It’s just not for me.”

“You want something more substantive. A relationship?”

It sounded silly when the guy said it, naive and ridiculously romantic. 

“Yeah, that’s what I want,” Steve said with a challenge.

Another small hum and then silence. 

“And what if your partner wants to feel used….or humiliated, degraded. Would you oblige them?”

Steve chewed the inside of his cheek, disturbed by how conflicted he was. It should have been an easy ‘no’, but it wasn’t. He….wanted, and he wanted to please his partner as well. 

“If that’s something they desire, I’m willing to discuss it.”

“You have reservations?”

Steve sighed. “I just...I don’t want to make anyone feel bad about themselves. If there’s a way to do these things that doesn’t do damage, then I’m open to it.”

“Open to it?” The guy sounded skeptical. “So none of that interests you at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Steve gritted out.

“Yeah, there’s a lot you’re not saying,” the guy quickly retorted.

Steve looked up at the ceiling in resignation. Maybe if he just gave the guy what he wanted, he’d get through this quicker. 

“If you’re asking if I get off on making my partner feel bad, no,” he replied. “But if we’re role playing and they’re into it, yeah, I think it could be hot.”

“There we go, see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” the guy asked in a light teasing manner that Steve found surprisingly reassuring. 

“If I give you a good review,” the man said tentatively. “We’d take great care to match you with a compatible partner.”

“Does this mean I passed?” Steve asked.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, pal.”

There was amusement in the man’s tone, like he’d given up trying to pretend he wasn’t charmed. That and his use of the term ‘pal’ set Steve more at ease, and made him curious. Steve wondered if the guy was as good looking as they said. 

“So what’s your type?” the man asked.

“Looks, or….”

“Looks, personality, kinks. Everything.”

Steve sighed and closed his eyes. The harder he tried _not_ to think of Bucky, the more space Bucky took in his head. Thirty-five hundred miles from Wakanda, and he still couldn’t get away from his first love.

“I like brunettes,” Steve said. “But it’s not like a kink or anything. It’s just something I like. More importantly though, anyone I train with should be kind, smart, feisty. I like a little sass.”

The snort that elicited was unexpected, but it made Steve smirk. 

“What?” he asked. “Sass is sexy. I like someone who can keep me on my toes, who isn’t afraid to argue with me just because I’m a dominant.”

“Sounds like you have someone very specific in mind. Have you done this before?”

Steve blew out a hard breath. “Sorta? I uh, fooled around with it a long, long time ago. Only ever with one person, but they were…. perfect.”

In the silence that ensued, Steve wondered if he had said something wrong. Perhaps describing a past partner as “perfect” would be viewed negatively. But if Steve was going to do this, he had to be honest. Any submissive he trained with would eventually find out about Bucky. Bucky was a part of Steve’s DNA just like his eye color and Irish complexion. 

But it was too quiet and Steve began mentally preparing for a bad review.

“You’re such a sentimental sap, you know that?” 

Steve gasped. The Dutch accent was gone. That voice. It was all Brooklyn. 

“Bucky?” Steve whispered. 

Footsteps, slow and heavy circled around Steve’s chair until Steve was staring up into familiar blue eyes. 

“Hi,” Bucky said with an unsure smile. “Guess we need to talk about a few things.”


	4. Vier

It had to be a hallucination. And for a moment Steve was convinced someone had slipped something into his water. He blinked a few times, expecting his vision to return to normal. When Bucky remained in front of him, Steve shook his head, certain he was losing his mind. 

“You’re in Wakanda,” he said, more to himself than anyone else because Bucky wasn’t there. He _couldn’t_ be. 

Bucky winced. “I _was_ in Wakanda. But now I’m here. And so are you. So let’s talk.”

Finally, Steve closed his mouth and stood up to make sure Bucky was real. He needed to touch him. Bucky grew quite still and his pale blue eyes held the same wary fear and doubt when Steve had discovered him in Romania. 

It had been over a year, and everything had changed, except Bucky was still hiding. Hiding from the world. Hiding from Steve. The realization hit Steve like a sledgehammer and he pulled his hand back before he made contact.

A slow brewing anger was simmering inside of him. Bucky, T’Challa, even Victoria. They’d all lied.

“You’re supposed to be in cryo,” Steve said, unable to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. 

“I’ve been out of cryo for eight months now,” Bucky said softly. 

The betrayal was so surprising and brutal it knocked Steve off his feet. He dropped back into the chair like dead weight. It was like being told your best friend had faked their death. Only it was much worse. Bucky had relocated and hadn’t made any effort to reach out to Steve.

Bucky sighed. “Before you get yourself all worked up, you should know that you left two months before I woke up.”

Steve looked up slowly, his feelings of betrayal turning to shame. An explanation was impossible to put into words.

Wakanda was beautiful. If someone needed space they could escape the bustle of the inner city to traverse the wide open fields or the jungle. But after Bucky’s self-imposed coma, Steve had developed an acute case of claustrophobia. He had to get out from under the weight of his helplessness and find a way to breathe again. 

“Nobody told me…” Steve said, his voice cracking. “If I had known for one second that there was a chance of you waking up soon, I would have stayed, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s eyes were kind as he nodded. “I know, Steve. I know.”

“I should have been there,” Steve said, guilt twisting in his gut like a bad tapeworm.

“Maybe not,” Bucky said. 

Steve frowned. “What do you mean?”

“When Shuri woke me up, things were rough at first. I was relieved she was able to get that shit out of my head. But I was angry, too. At everything and everyone, especially myself. I was a mess, Steve. And I thought that maybe you saw the writing on the wall, and just gave up on me.”

Regret and self-loathing flooded Steve as he forced himself to stand, to face Bucky.

“I never gave up on you, Bucky. I’ll _never_ give up on you. That’s not why I left.”

“I know that now,” Bucky said quickly, and then flashed a smile. It looked genuine, like his previous smiles, the ones he used to give _before_. “Like I said, I was in a weird space. I’m actually glad you left. Might have been the best thing for both of us.”

Steve furrowed his brow in confusion. 

“I needed to figure stuff out, on my own,” Bucky said, giving a one-shoulder shrug. “I’m still working on it, but I have a better grasp of who I am now. And you, you’re always carrying the whole goddamn world on your shoulders. I hope you got a chance to live a little. Have some fun.”

As Steve thought about the past year, the only constant he could think of was moving when people became too familiar and finding employment that didn’t require legitimate identification or tax forms. Finding work had become a job of its own, with no breaks. And keeping a low profile was easy for a spy, but Steve still found ducking from public security cameras and lying difficult.

“Fun,” Steve murmured, chewing on the word. “Not sure that’s the word I’d use.”

Bucky cracked another smile. “Well then, you came to the right place. Fun is a requirement here. I mean, if you’re still interested in membership? ”

The subject change was too abrupt and forced. Steve crossed his arms over his chest, his stare boring into Bucky. 

“Bucky, what are you doing _here_?”

“It’s perfect, right?” Bucky replied, looking around the dungeon. “No one in the world knows we’re here, not unless we want them to.” 

He did a half turn in the light, giving an excellent view of his full profile. His fitted black slacks he wore highlighted the contour of his ass. It was very distracting. 

“Stop that,” Steve demanded. “And answer the question.”

Bucky continued to stare off into the dark for several moments. Steve waited him out. He needed an explanation. None of this made sense.

“After Azzano I knew there was no God,” Bucky finally said. “But not believing don’t make it easier. I still craved absolution. I had to atone for what I did, Steve. I had to--”

Steve was shaking his head before Bucky could finish. “You have nothing to atone for! They forced you!”

The way Bucky sighed and threw back his head only inspired even more conviction in Steve. A conviction he was determined to inject into Bucky, even now. 

“Okay, explain it then,” Steve urged. “Explain why you need to atone for something that was out of your control. Help me understand how that makes any sense.”

Finally Bucky turned to face Steve, his pale eyes stormy. “Get this through your thick-skull-- it doesn’t matter what they did to me.”

Steve huffed in disagreement, ready to launch a counter argument.

“It doesn’t!” Bucky exclaimed. “It doesn’t matter who was pulling the strings, I’m the one who has to live with the memories. I see them all the time - the people I killed with my hands. _My_ hands, Steve. Nobody else’s!”

“Bucky ---”

“No, stop,” Bucky said, holding out his metal hand. “Stop trying to convince me I had nothing to do with it. I’m making peace with my past, at least I’m trying to.”

Steve shook his head. “How? By being a sex slave? That’s your absolution, Bucky? Letting people beat and fuck you? You’re better than this.”

As soon as it left his mouth, Steve knew it was wrong. His intent mangled under the weight of his passion.

Bucky’s expression quickly shuttered. All signs of his willingness to listen were gone, replaced by a coldness that chilled Steve to the bone.

“No,” Bucky said in a flat tone. “What I’m doing here has nothing to do with absolution. I’m here because I like this place. I like these people. They accept me for who I am. And I _enjoy_ what I do here. If you have a problem with that, I really don’t give a fuck. Leave.”

Steve shook his head. “Bucky, that’s not what I meant.”

“Isn’t it?” Bucky said bitterly.

It was all twisted now. Steve could feel Bucky withdrawing from him and the fear of it wrapped around his chest. Steve swallowed, tried not to panic, but it was spreading all the same. He stepped forward, holding out a desperate hand. 

“I wasn’t judging you,” he said. “I know it sounded like I was, but I’m just trying to make sense of it. You said you were searching for absolution and you’re here. I thought that you…. I just don’t understand.”

“That’s because you didn’t let me finish,” Bucky snapped. “You haven’t changed at all. You’re still a self-righteous punk who thinks he has all the answers. So quick to choose a side instead of listening to mine.”

Steve swallows, embarrassed by his presumptions. “You’re right. Okay? I jumped the gun. I’m sorry, Buck. Please, finish what you were saying.”

He held his breath and hoped for another chance. 

Bucky scowled for a moment then his shoulders slumped. The look of exasperation on his face was so familiar. “You’re lucky you’re _you_. I would have thrown anyone else out on their ass by now.”

The tightness in Steve’s chest abated as he silently thanked the universe. 

Bucky started pacing, combing his flesh hand through his long hair. He looked good. Healthy. His hair looked soft and shiny, and he had good muscle tone. His upper torso was seductively on display in a see-through long sleeved black mesh t-shirt. Steve wondered if he always wore such revealing things when meeting new applicants, or if this shirt was chosen specifically for this meeting. For Steve. 

“As I was saying,” Bucky said. “I needed absolution. For my own peace of mind. So I started helping T’Challa gather intel, but someone he was dealing with recognized me.”

Steve started to say something but Bucky put up his hand to calm him down. 

“T’Challa took care of it. But after all he’s done for me, I couldn’t ask him to keep dirtying his hands or put his country in danger. So I left. Nakia helped me. She gave me some contacts and put in a good word for me.”

Steve exhaled a little.

“I traveled through Ethiopia, Sudan, Nigeria,” Bucky said. “I kept looking over my shoulder, thinking they were gonna find me. Most of the time I was the only white guy so I stood out like a sore thumb. But no one ever came.”

“That was risky,” Steve said anxiously, wondering if even now Bucky had been photographed or reported. 

Bucky shook his head. “In retrospect it’s not really surprising. None of the people trusted the government, especially ours. So they kept me under wraps, treated me like one of their own. And then I found it.”

“What?” Steve asked.

Bucky quirked a little smile. “My absolution. Turns out I had it with me the whole time.”

He held his arm out towards the brightest point in the circle of light. Steve watched as it recalibrated, filling the room with soft whirring sound that was almost comforting. It was very different now. The golden lines Steve previously mistook for chains gleamed like golden veins. The rest of the arm was much darker and sleeker than before. 

“Shuri made it for me,” Bucky explained.

“It’s beautiful,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah it is. What’s even better is what it can do. I can do _good_ things with this arm, Steve.” 

Steve drew closer and his heart leapt when Bucky gave him a small smile, his arm still extended as if inviting Steve to inspect it.

“It’s great for lifting, holding stuff up. I drill things, do repairs.” Steve caressed the fingertips, and Bucky curled the first knuckle of his index finger to demonstrate how it formed a wrench-like grip. “I can plant with it too, ten times faster than a normal hand.”

The pride in his voice was unmistakable and it made Steve’s heart soar. 

A smile broke on Steve’s face. “That’s amazing, Buck.”

Bucky nodded. “I don’t have to kill to find absolution- I can build. That’s what I do now.”

It stirred so much emotion in Steve’s spirit, his eyes started misting and he had to blink a few times to hide it. 

“I’m really happy for you.”

Bucky’s smile faded and he blew out a hard breath. “It’s a work in progress. I still see their faces. The people I killed.”

An old enmity and thirst for vengeance flared within Steve, reigniting his one true hate. Hydra was going to pay for what they did to Bucky. 

“Stop,” Bucky said with a smirk.

“I’m going to wipe them out,” Steve said, balling his fists. “I’ve been laying low while the others get their lives back on track. But as soon as they’re settled, I swear….”

Bucky looked down at the black rubber floor. “If that’s what you really want to do, I’ll help. I’ll always have your six.”

It touched something deep inside of Steve, a reassurance he didn’t know he needed. But the idea of Bucky back out in harm’s way also terrified him. 

“No,” Steve said, shaking his head. “You just said your absolution is in building. I wouldn’t want to take that from you. You never have to do anything you don’t want to do again, Bucky.”

“Yeah, I know that, pal,” Bucky said with a chuckle. “I do what I fucking want now. And I’m telling you, if you plan on taking on Hydra, I want in.”

As Bucky spoke, a wild hope began to take root. Steve didn’t want to read too much into anything, but Bucky was here, he was smiling, confident in his autonomy, and offering to fight if Steve needed it. 

“What’s with the stupid smile?” Bucky asked, looking suspicious.

Steve tried to rein it in, but it was a losing cause. “I would never have thought, in a million years, we’d end up here, having this conversation.”

Bucky bit his lip. “Well, I wasn’t completely certain, but I was hoping you’d come. I mean, we discussed it.” 

“I remember,” Steve said slowly, recalling the three days of respite the Howling Commandos had back in 1943. There was a lot of drinking, dancing, and fraternizing with the locals. But best of all, Steve and Bucky were able to steal away two nights in a row. They tried to squeeze a few years of lovemaking into a few days. And a lot of things were said. 

Bucky nodded. “I remember, too. It was one of the first things that came back to me after D.C. Our silly fantasy. Road trip across country until we hit the Grand Canyon, then---”

“Hop on a plane,” Steve joined in. “And spend a month in Amsterdam.”

They stared at each other for several beats, as unspoken memories of what they did in that small French boarding house hovered over them. 

“Do you remember why we chose Amsterdam?” Bucky asked, swiping his bottom lip in a way that begged for Steve to chase it. 

Suddenly, Steve wanted to taste Bucky’s lips, feel Bucky’s tongue against his so he could compare how he tasted to a hundred different memories.

“Yes,” Steve said. “I remember everything.”

“Good, because I remember enough,” Bucky said, leveling Steve with a meaningful smirk. Flashes of Bucky with his back arched, hands bound with scarves, begging, invaded Steve’s thoughts. He looked away, his face hot, his tailored pants a little snug.

“So…here we are, in Amsterdam,” Bucky said, walking into Steve’s personal space. “Over seventy years later and we’re still alive. We have an entire dungeon to ourselves, and every type of instrument of pleasure at our disposal.” 

Steve inhaled, breathing a clean minty smell. It smelled like shampoo, but it could have been Bucky’s soap. Just a few steps and he could confirm for sure. 

It was still hard to believe. Bucky was here, and Steve could touch him if he wanted. 

As if reading Steve’s mind, Bucky quirked a knowing little smile. “So, Steve, what are you gonna do about it?”

There was a gleam in Bucky’s eye that reminded Steve of old dares and a frail body Steve wanted to defy. 

He reached out and palmed the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky’s hair was just as soft as it looked. Steve clutched a fist full of it. There was a hitch in Bucky’s breathing and his entire body visibly sagged; Steve could feel the weight of him letting go in his hand.

It was all the affirmation Steve needed. He closed the distance between them for an open mouthed kiss.

Bucky’s mouth was hot, and it burned Steve down to his toes. The same skill and passion Steve always remembered but with a patient calculating suaveness that only comes with time and practice. Steve tried to keep up, using his tongue to taste and savor this new flavor of Bucky. 

They stayed like that for a very long time, locked into each other, basking in a dream that had somehow crystallized into reality.

When Steve finally came up for air, he was short of breath and Bucky’s mouth looked swollen and ravished. 

“What do you want?” Steve asked. “I’ll do anything you want.”

Bucky laughed, his blue eyes dancing in the light. “That’s really sweet, pal, but you’re the dom. I want you to take control. We have all night, and I’m completely yours.”


	5. Vijf

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The incredible art featured in this chapter was created by [Puddingpong](http://puddingpong.tumblr.com).

Bucky had the nerve to smirk after asking the mother of all questions.

_What do you want to do to me?_

The question echoed in Steve’s head alongside the filthy image of Bucky’s pouty lips wrapped around his cock. He quickly pushed it away. He had to focus; this was still an evaluation. Maybe?

Bucky’s eyes widened comically. “Ooooh-kay,” he said slowly. “Never seen _that_ reaction before. New doms typically don’t need prompting.”

“Is that what I am to you?” Steve asked. “A new dom?”

Bucky sighed. “Don’t go getting sensitive on me, alright? I remember what we used to do. _That_ was experimenting. Being dominant doesn’t make you a dom. Unless you’ve been training with other people?”

The way Bucky’s eyes flashed with jealousy was as old and familiar as their Dodgers’ trading cards. It made Steve’s heart race.

“No, I haven’t,” Steve quickly reassured. “You’re kind of a hard act to follow.”

The jealous embers in Bucky’s stare cooled into something fonder as he shook his head. “Still a hopeless romantic.” 

“When it comes to you? Yeah,” Steve murmured.

Their eyes locked for a moment and then Bucky cleared his throat. 

“So is there something in particular you’re interested in exploring here with me tonight?”

“Just tonight?” Steve asked. 

Bucky looked away, but even with the left side of his face veiled in darkness, his smile was still visible. “Well, if you want, I can be your training slave. Pending membership approval, you’ll be able to play with me as long as you like.”

“Play with you,” Steve said, trying out the words. The phrase conjured up unfavorable images of Bucky being passed around like a toy for other dominants to use.

Steve never liked sharing Bucky. And his poker face was shit.

“Is there an echo in here?” Bucky asked, with a laugh in his words, but then his eyes went wide. “Oh, I see,” he said with a teasing lilt. “You want to take me off the shelf. Keep me all to yourself?”

“I told you, I want something steady,” Steve said. “And now that I know you’re here…well.”

The way Bucky twisted his lips as he drew closer made Steve’s fingers itch to pull him in all the way. 

“Well what?” Bucky prodded. 

Steve rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” Bucky said, one eyebrow arched. “I can’t read minds. You’re gonna have to spit it out. This may be a hard one for you, but the society’s number one rule is communication.”

Steve hated being forced to say things. He glared at Bucky, but as usual, it was pretty ineffectual. 

“I don’t want to share you with anyone.”

Bucky hummed and began to walk around Steve. “Some find possessiveness in a dom kinda hot, but it can also be a red flag.”

The hairs on the back of Steve’s neck stood up as Bucky stopped to stand behind him. He wanted to turn around, tell Bucky to break whatever role he was in and just talk to him plainly. But another part of Steve was so damn curious and greedy. This was the longest conversation he had with Bucky in over seventy years and he didn’t want it to end. 

Warm air hit his neck and Steve shivered. Bucky was so close that if Steve turned around, he’d surely brush against him. 

“A dom should never demand anything before he builds sufficient rapport with his submissive.”

“Is this how we’re going to play it?” Steve asked, more snippiliy than he intended. “You’re treating me like I’m a stranger. I’m not.”

The tense silence that followed made Steve mentally groan. He’d pushed too hard again. If he kept this up, he was going to drive Bucky away, and Steve couldn’t afford to lose him again.

He gasped at the shock of Bucky’s chest pressing into his back. 

“That’s debatable,” Bucky whispered in his ear. “We’ve been apart a lot longer than we were together.”

“I know, but…” Steve closed his eyes. His frustration was spiking and he had no idea how to convince Bucky he still knew him without pissing him off. But Steve felt it in his bones. 

“But what?” Bucky prompted.

“You’re still Bucky to me. Always will be.”

“Is that right?” Bucky asked, his lips grazing Steve’s ear and sending a shiver through his body. “So... you want me all to yourself?” 

Steve swallowed. “Yes.” 

Bucky pulled away and Steve immediately missed the warm press of his sturdy torso. 

Footsteps, soft and sure, circled around until Bucky was standing in front of him. There was serious contemplation in Bucky’s eyes and Steve held his breath, waiting for the sharp punch of rejection.

A small smile broke on Bucky’s lips and it was like the sun peeking out of a dark cloud. 

“Good,” Bucky said. “‘Cause I really like it here, and if you started playing with another sub, I don’t think I could stay. Guess I’m kinda possessive when it comes to you, too.”

Relief loosened the hold on Steve’s chest and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“You’re so fucking easy,” Bucky said with fond exasperation. 

A laugh escaped Steve as cautious hope began to bloom. “Just for you.”

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Bucky said, rolling his eyes.

Steve narrowed his eyes. “You know, you’re not acting very submissive. Perhaps a spanking is in order?”

There was a little smile on Bucky’s lips. “Is that what you want, _Sir_?”

Steve’s pulse picked up. This was happening. It was really happening. Steve tried to control his face so as not to reveal his glee.

With a mostly steady hand, he reached out and caressed Bucky’s cheek. 

“Don’t call me that. It’s too formal and impersonal… for us.”

Bucky’s breathing seemed to quicken. “What should I call you then?”

Steve’s caress meandered from Bucky’s cheek to the back of his neck. He gripped Bucky firmly there, and tugged. Bucky followed with no resistance, crashing into Steve and exhaling like it was a great relief. Steve stood strong, soaking in the solid feel of Bucky’s weight against him. He could feel the wild jumping of Bucky’s heart pounding in time with his own.

Stroking a hand through Bucky’s soft, loose curls, Steve whispered, “I want you to call me ‘Steve’.”

A shuddering sigh followed and Steve held Bucky tighter. He could listen to Bucky do that all night. 

“Steve,” Bucky said quietly. 

“Say it again,” Steve ordered.

“Steve,” Bucky said in a husky voice.  
Looking into Bucky’s eyes was like biting into a slice of his Ma’s apple pie. Steve was home. 

Waves of comfort swept through him as Bucky’s strong hands slid over his biceps. When Bucky’s hands wrapped around Steve’s shoulders, it was like unloading a year’s worth of emotional luggage. Steve entire body relaxed and he let his head fall until their foreheads were pressed together. He grabbed Bucky’s hips and his eyes fell to Bucky’s lips. 

He wanted, no, _needed_ , to taste them again. Ducking his head, Steve captured Bucky’s mouth. This kiss was less desperate, more languid and curious. Taking his time, Steve traced Bucky’s lips with his tongue. He tried to savor the slow, hot slide of their mouths against each other while committing this new and old flavor of Bucky to memory.

They moaned softly as their embrace tightened. Steve’s dress pants began to stretch uncomfortably with his growing erection and he forced himself to pull back. As much as he wanted Bucky, there were still a few things that needed to be discussed.

“Am I still being evaluated?”

Buck gave him slow, sly smile. “Maybe.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be a jerk. Was this all just a ploy to get me down here?”

Bucky gave a one shoulder shrug. “No. I mean, not completely. I’m still assessing your candidacy for membership in the society.”

“So what do I have to do to pass?” 

Leaning back in, Bucky pressed his metal hand against Steve’s chest. “Be a good dominant.”

Steve swallowed. “You know I’m new at this; there’s still a lot I don’t know.”

“Yes, about certain things,” Bucky said, running his hand over Steve’s right pec slowly, brushing over the hardened nipple. Steve tried and failed to suppress a shiver. “I can teach you all that stuff. But there’s other things that can’t be taught.”

Bucky’s voice was low and warm just like in Steve’s fantasies. Fantasies born from memories they’d made before the war, when they would take each other apart in every way they could.

“If you do pass, though,” Bucky said. “I’ll show you how to mark up my ass real good with a whip.”

The image of Steve with a whip in his hand and Bucky strung up at his mercy was very, very tempting. 

“Let’s get on with it then,” Steve said quickly. 

Bucky smiled and raised his eyebrows, like he was waiting for Steve to say the magic words. 

Something clicked, and Steve realized that even though he really didn’t know what he was doing, Bucky wanted him to _try_. 

“Um...so…” Steve ventured. “Tell me about your limits?” 

Bucky lifted his head with a matter-of-fact expression that Steve associated with giving mission reports. 

“I don’t do scat, needles, hypnosis, cock and ball torture, electricity, sounding, bestiality, kids, drugs, body modification, or extreme pain.”

It wasn’t like Steve didn’t know these things existed within the realm of what they were doing, but Bucky’s recitation of the list sounded so practiced and casual. Once again, Steve wondered just how experienced Bucky was in this stuff and if he just picked it up since cryo or if it was something he’d explored more in-depth in another time and place.

“And your safeword?” Steve asked more confidently.

“Wilson. As in Sam Wilson,” Bucky said with a god-honest straight face.

Steve sputtered. “What?” 

“That’s my safeword,” Bucky said, his eyes holding a challenge. 

Steve shook his head, a little smile twisting his lips. “I will try to make sure you never have to say Sam’s name while we’re having sex.”

“Good. And what about you?” Bucky asked. 

Struck momentarily speechless by the question, Steve tried to recall all of the things that used to make him cringe whenever he’d searched for internet porn. 

“Um...I suppose all of the stuff you just said is a big no for me, too,” he finally said. “Except for...what’s scat?”

“Shit,” Bucky replied.

Steve’s eyes popped. “Uh yeah, _no_. Not into that. And I’m not really into piss either, but for you, I could possibly be persuaded.”

Bucky batted his eyelashes and affected the most adorable smile. “Aww, you say the sweetest things.”

“Jerk,” Steve said with a smile.

“Seriously,” Bucky said. “Not my thing.”

“Good,” Steve said. “And I suppose my safeword is ‘Stop’.”

“Okay,” Bucky said, his voice dipping lower again.

There was a strange lull, and once again Steve felt out of his element. When he didn’t do or say anything, Bucky shook his head, clearly amused.

“Hell must have frozen over,” Bucky said. “Steve Rogers doesn’t have a plan.”

Steve gulped, his face growing hot with embarrassment. He was fucking this up and he didn’t know how to correct it. 

Bucky sighed and looked at him with affection before wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck. The dungeon was silent, but Bucky began rocking slowly like there was music playing. A memory, old and strong, seized Steve’s senses. He could practically hear Billie Holiday’s voice as they swayed in the dark corner of the mafia-run queer bar near the edge of the East River. 

“Remember ‘36?” Bucky whispered knowingly. “Sal’s?”

Steve opened his eyes. Bucky was already looking at him. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said with a small smile that looked almost bashful. “Told you, I remember a lot of things. I remember how you said you hated to dance, but whenever we were at Sal’s, you’d lose yourself in it.”

“I liked that place,” Steve said whimsically. It was so long ago, it almost seemed like someone else’s life. “I felt free there. Like you and I could just be ourselves.”

Bucky hummed. “This place is like that too, you know. That’s our namesake - _Vrijheid_. It means freedom.”

“I thought only members were supposed to know that,” Steve said, trying to temper his excitement about that little reveal. 

“You’re looking pretty good for membership,” Bucky said, smirking.

Steve snorted. “And you called _me_ easy. Victoria was right - you’re a big ole’ softie, Barnes.” 

“Hey!” Bucky grinned and it was the best thing Steve had seen in over a year. 

“Remember what we used to do _after_ a night at Sal’s?” Bucky asked.

A dozen different sexual memories came rushing back at once, and with them a flood of desire.

“Yeah,” Steve whispered.

Rubbing his forehead against Steve’s again, Bucky groaned in a way that was unmistakably related to a sex-memory. Steve’s cock twitched in his pants. 

“Remember how stern you used to get with me?” Bucky asked. “How you used to test my body?” 

He ground his hips in a tight circle, pressing his erection against Steve.

Steve nodded, tightening his grip on Bucky’s hips.

“Tell me what you want, Steve,” Bucky practically pleaded.

Steve closed his eyes and whined. He couldn’t say it. He wasn’t ready. When he opened his eyes, Bucky had pulled back and was looking at him with suspicion. 

“Why do I get the feeling you’re holding back with me?”

Steve swallowed. “You’ve been through a lot, Buck. I--”

“Oh, Christ!” Bucky said, throwing his hand up and putting them on his hips. “Really? I’ve been through hell and back and you’re gonna treat me like I’m fragile now? If anything, I’m stronger than ever.”

Steve winced as Bucky’s expression shuttered. 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Bucky snapped. “My psychologist? For your information, I already have one. She’s good, and knows what the hell she’s doing. Unlike you. You’re completely off the mark here. Nothing I do here looks remotely anything like what they put me through. So why don’t you lose the paternal act, pal, it’s a real boner killer.”

Steve opened his mouth to explain, because Bucky was only half right. It wasn’t just about Bucky’s past. There were many things in the dungeon that breathed new life into some of his darkest fantasies.

Bucky cocked his head, his eyes measuring. “Unless, this isn’t just about me. Are you hiding something?”

Steve looked away.

“Ooooh…you’re scared, aren’t you? Think I’m gonna judge you?” Bucky asked, his voice more tender now.

Steve gave a little shrug. Anything more felt too revealing.

The silence that followed was bursting with anticipation and dread. Steve’s mind raced, wondering just how transparent he was and then he remembered - there really was no hiding from Bucky. 

“Look at me,” Bucky said.

Summoning his courage, Steve turned his head to look Bucky straight in the eyes again. 

“What do you want, Steve? Just tell me.”

As Steve studied Bucky from head to toe once more, all of his fantasies reemerged, competing for a chance to be played out. He wanted so much, it was hard to know where to start. But first things first, that mesh shirt covering Bucky’s torso had to go.

“Take off your shirt?” Steve said. He inwardly cringed at the tentativeness in his voice. 

Bucky looked as if he were suppressing a smirk. “Is that an order or a question?”

Steve exhaled, tamping down on all of his insecurities. He could do this, he _had already_ done this with Bucky a lifetime ago.

“It’s an order - take your shirt off,” Steve said firmly. “Now.”

Bucky took a step back even has his eyes remained fixed on Steve. The air between them crackled, Bucky slid his hands down his torso, an agonizing tease. 

Steve clenched his fists as Bucky found the hem of his mesh shirt and dragged it up over his chest and head with a slow dramatic flare that would have made Steve roll his eyes if it hadn’t been so fucking sexy.

In Shuri’s lab, right before Bucky went into cryo, Steve had taken care not to stare. But here, in this moment, Bucky’s eyes implored him to look, to take in everything.

Bucky’s body was different now - from his incredible bulk to the maze of scars zig-zagging along his left side all the way up to the juncture where his metal arm was fused to his body. 

“Not quite the same, huh?” Bucky said quietly. There was a sad resignation in his eyes that Steve felt compelled to vanquish.

“No,” Steve replied. “Even better.”

“I know you’re sweet on me, but don’t patronize,” Bucky said with an edge to his voice. 

“I’m not,” Steve insisted, moving closer. “The guy I’ve been dreaming about all these years… has always been out of reach. I don’t care about these scars, Buck. You’re _here_ , in the flesh. I can touch you now.”

Reaching out, Steve ran his fingers along Bucky’s collarbone and down the valley between his pecs. Bucky visibly shivered and took a shaky breath. 

There was a new wet sheen to his eyes as he moved in closer. Steve was a live wire and when Bucky’s bare chest pressed into him a current of love and lust hit Steve so hard it shook him to the bone. A fierce wave of protectiveness rose up within him as he wrapped his arms around Bucky and ran his hands over the tapestry of raised scars and welts. 

“I want to make this good for you, but I’m not gonna lie, Buck. I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.”

Bucky pulled back, his eyes full of adoration. “Alright, _newbie_ , how about this - you help me explore one of my secret fantasies, and then we’ll explore one of yours. Does that work for you?”

“Alright,” Steve said. “Yeah, that sounds good. Why don’t you, uh, tell me about your fantasy.”

For the first time since they’d started talking, Bucky’s complexion turned pink and he averted his eyes. He stepped back.

“Okay, so….I have this recurring one... “ Bucky shook his head and chuckled to himself. “I can’t believe I’m actually telling you this.”

“You don’t have to,” Steve said quickly.

“I know that,” Bucky said in exasperation. “But I want to. I want to play it out with you. Actually, you’re the only one that could fulfill this for me.” 

There was a hesitancy in Bucky’s eyes that Steve couldn’t stand. He never wanted to see it again.

“Of course. Anything you want, Buck. Tell me,” Steve urged.

Bucky visibly swallowed and then turned and walked away from the scope of the light. Steve could only see the faint outline of his body, and the golden lines in his arm.

“Remember when you showed up in Romania, unannounced?” Bucky asked.

Steve’s eyes widened. Of all the things Bucky could have said, that was the last thing he’d expected.

“Yes,” Steve said cautiously.

“I couldn’t believe it was really you. I’d been collecting news articles, no matter how small, as long as they mentioned your name. I went to the library, combed through everything they had on you. I even visited that Smithsonian exhibit.”

Steve gasped. “You did?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Anything to try and remember. And then one day it just all came back. I had trouble separating everything out because it was just so much at once. Too much. After that, I started writing everything down. Trying to piece it all together.”

A mix of sadness, relief, and hope swirled through Steve’s chest. Suddenly he wanted, no, had to see Bucky’s face.

“Come here,” he said. 

When Bucky didn’t move, he had to remind himself that Bucky had just scolded him for treating him like he was fragile.

“I said come here, Bucky. Now. I want to see your face.”

Bucky slowly emerged from the shadows to stand in the circle of light again, his expression a strange amalgamation of arousal and nervousness. 

Gone was the self-assured, borderline belligerent swagger of the head slave. The man standing before Steve now was more vulnerable and transparent. Steve doubted many people got to see this side of Bucky. Perhaps no one did. This was a gift. 

“Closer,” Steve ordered softly.

Bucky swallowed and obeyed, taking a few steps to stand right before Steve. 

“Now continue,” Steve said.

Bucky’s eyes dropped and Steve gripped his chin and forced him to look back up. Bucky’s pupils were darker than before, and growing larger. It soothed a niggling worry in Steve’s head that he had pushed too far. 

“Continue,” Steve repeated more sternly.

The way Bucky chewed on his bottom lip as he stared back nudged that protective streak in Steve once again. He let go of Bucky’s chin and began stroking his cheek. 

Bucky sighed. “The stuff we used to do….the way we were before the war. I started writing that stuff down, too. It was weird; I hadn’t felt anything sexual in a long, long time. I didn’t even know my dick still worked like that.”

A pang of sadness stuck Steve. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake, don’t go making that face. It’s fine. _I’m_ fine,” Bucky reassured. “I’m better than fine, actually. Remembering us together reminded me that I was human. I started…. getting off to the memories.” 

His face grew hot under Steve’s hand. 

“Like, all the time,” he said with a bashful smile. “In those first few months, I think I beat my dick like four or five times a day thinking about us. And then I started fantasizing about a few new situations. Some of them may have involved you in the uniform…” Bucky’s eyes darted away quickly. “Especially that dark blue, stealth one. I’ve thought a lot about you in that suit.”

“Really?” Steve asked, completely taken aback. The idea that Bucky was actually thinking of him _in that way_ during such a dark period filled him with conflicting emotions - surprise, sadness, hope. 

“Don’t act so surprised,” Bucky said, smirking. “You know exactly how you look in that thing. That’s why you always wear it for interviews.”

Steve tried to hide his blush, but there was no hiding from Bucky. 

“ _Anyway_ ,” Bucky continued quickly. “I sorta have this fantasy where you show up in Romania, and things go a little differently than they did in real life. It may involve handcuffs, and… a spanking.”

Steve felt his eyebrows climbing up his forehead. “Wow.”

Bucky looked down again, like he was ashamed, and Steve wasn’t having it. He grabbed Bucky’s chin once more, pulling his face up.

“I like it,” Steve said. “A lot. I’m just surprised. I thought you were mad at me for barging in the way I did.”

“Well, I was. I didn’t understand why you came. But… now I do,” Bucky said.

He blushed again and it seemed like he was fighting hard not to squirm under Steve’s gaze. Steve let the silence stretch out, enjoying the subtle way the tables had turned.

“Is it consensual?” Steve asked. “This fantasy of yours?”

“Sorta,” Bucky said sheepishly. “But you’re not sweet with me. You’re rough, and very, very unhappy about me hiding from you for so long.”

Steve chuckled because that part was actually true. “Okay, and what about the armed SWAT team, how do they figure into things?”

Bucky shrugged. “They don’t exist. It’s just you that shows up.”

Steve nodded as a plan began to form in his head. 

“Does this dungeon come with handcuffs?” he asked suddenly.

Bucky visibly gulped and motioned behind him. “Over there.”

Brushing past Bucky, Steve walked to the equipment rack on the wall.

Hanging next to a pair of black leather cuffs, there were a sterling silver pair. They looked law-enforcement grade. Steve took them down and noticed that the key was already stuck inside. He took it out, and locked the cuffs a few times to test them. 

As he did, he ran through how he would proceed. The shock of Bucky’s fantasy had worn off, and in its place there was a buzz of excitement coursing through him.

He clutched the handcuffs in one hand and took a steadying breath before turning around.

“Bucky?”

Bucky was already facing him, watching.

“Yeah?”

“Do you know me?”

Bucky’s eyes widened and his chest started rising and falling faster. Steve tracked the way his jaw moved as he swallowed.

“You’re…. you’re Steve. I read about you at the museum.”

Steve held out a hand to make a ‘stop bullshitting me’ gesture. “I know you're nervous. And you have plenty of reason to be. But you're lying… And you don’t want to lie to me, Buck.”

“I wasn't in Vienna. I don't do that anymore,” Bucky said in the same quiet voice he’d used that day. 

Rattled by the mention of Vienna, Steve almost broke character, until Bucky waved him on with an encouraging nod.

“I know, but you’re wanted now,” Steve said, walking up to Bucky. “Either you let me take you in, or they’ll come for you. What’s it going to be?”

Bucky made a show of considering the two options. “Alright, I’ll go with you.”

“Hold out your hands,” Steve said, opening the cuffs.

The look of disapproval and surprise on Bucky’s face almost looked genuine. “Do you have to?”

“You’re a fugitive, Bucky, and as Captain America I have no choice but to take you in. Now hold out your hands.”

Bucky’s shoulders shook as he snorted out a laugh. Steve had to look away or he’d break character too. The laughter echoed throughout the dungeon. 

“ _I’m Captain America_? Really Steve?” Bucky coughed out. 

Steve sighed. “Do you want to do this or not.”

“Yeah, fine, fine,” Bucky said with a grin. He cleared his throat a few times as he tried to rein in his smile. 

Finally, he got his face under control. He put on an effective scowl as he held out both hands in surrender. 

“Didn’t think I’d let you get away from me again, did you?” Steve said as he clipped the cuffs on so that Bucky’s wrists were bound in front of him. “You’re mine.” 

Steve pulled the chain connecting the cuffs, walking Bucky over to the chair in the center of the room.

“Wha- what are you gonna do to me?” Bucky asked in a convincing nervous voice. 

Steve stopped and reached up to stroke a piece of Bucky’s hair out of his eyes before grabbing a handful to pull Bucky’s head back. 

Bucky’s mouth fell open in a silent gasp and his eyes locked onto Steve’s face like he finally saw the thing he’d been waiting for. It was like another dose of super-serum. Steve felt stronger and taller. 

There was a prominent bulge in Bucky’s pants, and the effect it had on Steve was immediate. It was as if a switch had been flipped. 

“I’m going to teach you a lesson,” he said in a dark, low voice.

He led Bucky by the chain linking the two cuffs to the chair in the center of the room.

“Stand still and hold your hands in front of your face.”

Bucky nodded and did as he was told while Steve squatted down to strip him of his pants. He pulled them down roughly and heard Bucky suck in air above him.

It had been a very, very long time since Steve had last seen Bucky’s dick. It was just as beautiful as he’d remembered, and it took considerable restraint for Steve not to put his mouth on it or grab it. He stood up slowly and walked around, caressing the soft and warm flesh of Buck’s ass as he did. 

Without any warning, Steve delivered a sharp slap. The sound rang out in the dungeon along with Bucky’s shocked gasp. 

Steve chuckled darkly. “You’ve eluded me for over two years now, Buck.” He came back around to look Bucky in the eyes. “That’s not a very nice way to treat an old friend, is it?”

Bucky shook his head slowly.

“I can’t hear you,” Steve said in a deep commanding voice. Bucky’s dick visibly bobbed and Steve could feel his own filling out in response.

“No, Steve. I’m sorry,” Bucky said, looking anything but. With his pouty lips, moused hair, and sexy blue eyes, he reminded Steve of one of those dirty Blue Boy magazine pinups.

“You’re about to be,” Steve said, taking a seat. “Take off your shoes, get rid of the pants, and come over here and lay over my lap.”

“What?” Bucky said like he didn’t understand.

“Don’t make me ask again,” Steve said with a warning in his tone as he got comfortable.

Bucky toed off his loafers and stepped out of his pants. He took slow steps towards Steve before stopping before him. When he lowered himself over Steve’s lap, there was a sly smile on his face like he knew exactly how it was affecting Steve. He stretched over Steve’s thighs, his cute, pale ass facing up. 

Steve scooted forward to give Bucky’s erection some relief. He could feel it sticking to the inside of his thigh, hard as a rock. Steve had to take a moment to calm down. It would be so easy to abandon all pretenses and just go for what he wanted, but this was about Bucky’s fantasy, not Steve’s.

The chair sat in one of the circles of light, illuminating everything in it. Bucky’s ass was perfectly round and his skin looked creamy and smooth. In contrast, along the firm muscle tone of his back there was a maze of scars. They looked a lot like healed cuts _and_ whip marks. Steve didn’t want to think about the actual cause of either.

On Bucky’s left side the extensive scarring mirrored the front, especially around the socket of his upper left arm. 

It didn’t matter; Bucky was still a work of art. 

Steve ran his hand over the smooth skin of Bucky’s ass, and up the jagged scars of his back. Bucky’s entire body seemed to relax more with each caress. The hammering of his heart against Steve’s thigh began to slow down, and his breathing evened out eventually. 

Steve slapped his ass where it looked softest.

“Ah!” Bucky startled.

“Where you been, huh, Bucky?” Steve struck his ass again, this time harder. “Been looking for you. And I find you in Romania, of all places.”

He delivered a series of hard slaps on each side of Bucky’s ass. A moan filled the room as Bucky began to grind, his hard dick seeking friction. 

Steve jiggled his leg against it, teasing, drawing out another moan. 

“You been hiding from me? Answer me,” Steve demanded.

When Bucky didn’t respond, Steve delivered another round of hard smacks to Bucky’s increasingly reddening ass. 

He heard a sniffle and paused. Something in Steve’s chest tightened and snapped. A flood of anger he hadn’t realized he’d stored away came rushing out. He smacked his palm over Bucky’s hot skin.

“Don’t you ever, ever hide from me again,” Steve said, his voice cracking on the last word. It no longer felt like a script he was acting out. The words were just falling out of his mouth. “You hear me?”

Bucky’s body was a bow of tension, his torso contracting, hugging Steve’s thighs. 

“Answer me,” Steve whispered, hitting the same place again.

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky gasped.

“Tell me you won’t ever make me search like that again,” Steve said, and he could hear the desperation in his voice. It didn’t matter. He needed to hear the words from Bucky’s mouth.

“I won’t. I won’t, Steve. I promise,” Bucky began chanting as Steve kept up a steady onslaught of slaps to his ass. 

Just as Steve’s hand was beginning to sting, Bucky gasped loudly and his entire body shuddered.

As Bucky orgasmed on his lap, Steve stroked his back. There was one final spasm before Bucky went completely limp. He lay over Steve’s thighs, completely drained. Leaning over, Steve kissed the inflamed skin that now bore his handprints.

[ ](https://imgur.com/so4laHh)

Steve could feel come seeping into his dress pants.

“Kneel,” Steve ordered, his voice breathy.

Bucky contracted and then relaxed, sliding from over Steve’s lap to a kneeling position next to the chair. His hands were still cuffed, and the way he held them in front of himself reminded Steve of prayer.

A wicked thought slithered through Steve’s mind, and his face burned as he tried to push it out.

“What?” Bucky asked. It came out as a slur, but his eyes were still focused on Steve’s face.

“Nothing,” Steve said quickly.

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me, you just thought of something, didn’t you? What is it? What do you want to do?”

Steve shook his head and looked away, and Bucky actually growled, drawing Steve’s eyes back to him.

“Maybe you’re the one who’s changed too much,” Bucky taunted. “The Steve Rogers I knew spoke his mind. I don’t know what SHIELD did with that guy, but that’s the one I want to sub for. If he’s not available, maybe we should call this off.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. The gauntlet had been thrown. He knew exactly what Bucky was trying to do and damn it, it was working.

Leaning over, Steve grabbed Bucky’s chin and held it firmly. “You’re trying to top from the bottom? Yeah, I read about that.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows as if to say ‘yeah, and’?”

Steve narrowed his eyes. “Congratulations, I’m going to give you exactly what you’re asking for. But you may regret it.”

There was a gleam in Bucky’s eyes when he replied, “I doubt it.”

Without deliberating any further on it, Steve reached down and grabbed Bucky by his hair and pulled. Bucky gasped, looking up at Steve with wide surprised eyes.

Using two fingers of his other hand, Steve scooped up a healthy dollop of Bucky’s come.

“Open your mouth,” Steve said.

Bucky’s lips formed a little ‘oh’ and there was surprise in his eyes but he did as he was told.

A charge of lust and adoration swept through Steve as he brought his fingers to Bucky’s mouth.

“Eat up.”

Bucky did not hesitate, but it was hard for him to move with Steve holding the back his head so firmly. But he tried. He tried so hard, and it made Steve’s dick impossibly harder to watch Bucky chase after his come with such tenacity. Bucky stretched his tongue out to lick at it, and Steve grinned.

“Please,” Bucky whispered.

“That’s better. Now ask again,” Steve ordered.

Bucky’s lips quivered as his eyes darted down to Steve’s fingers. “Please, Steve. I wanna taste it.”

Steve cocked his head, pretending he didn’t understand. “You wanna eat your own come? Huh? Is that what you’re asking for, Bucky?”

It was hard for Bucky to nod, each movement meant another tug on his hair. But he tried anyway.

“Yes, Steve. Please.”

“Good boy,” Steve said, relaxing his grip on Bucky’s head. “Here you go.”

Bucky immediately moved forward, licking and sucking Steve’s fingers until they were clean.

“Clean it all up,” Steve said, looking down between his legs at the residue still there.

Scooting forward, Bucky dived in shamelessly, licking up every bit of come on the chair and Steve’s pants.

When he finished, he sat back on his haunches and gave Steve a sexy wet grin.

Steve sat back, admiring his submissive. _His._

He took a moment to ruminate and appreciate the fact that Bucky was actually here, and had given himself over completely to be under Steve’s care and direction once again. It was more than he’d ever dared to dream of in the past few years.

“You’re mine,” Steve whispered.

Bucky bit his lips. “Yes, Steve. I’m _yours_.”

It was difficult not to get swept up in Bucky’s pale blue gaze. Steve clasped Bucky at the neck and ducked down to claim his lips.

Bucky’s moan created nice little vibrations against Steve’s mouth, and he kissed and kissed until he heard a soft whimper. He nipped at Bucky’s bottom lip for good measure before finally pulling away. Bucky’s breathing was labored and his eyes were a little glazed.

He looked up at Steve, his mouth half open and his hands on his thighs as he kneeled. He was being so good. 

“Hold out your hands,” Steve ordered.

Bucky did as he was told and Steve reached into his pocket to retrieve the key to the handcuffs. He knelt down and unlocked them, then placed them on the chair. Taking Bucky’s wrists in his hands, Steve watched Bucky’s face for any signs of discomfort as he rubbed soothing circles where the handcuffs had been.

“Thank you for sharing your fantasy with me,” Steve said quietly. “It’s only fair I share mine now.”

A prickle of trepidation still remained, but Bucky put complete trust in Steve by sharing his fantasy, and Steve remembered the indignation that followed his previous hesitation.

Summoning his courage, Steve looked Bucky straight in the eye. “Do you remember all the stuff I used to say I wanted to try, but couldn’t?”

Bucky gave a slow nod. “You were always too small to fuck me up against the wall, or fuck my throat.”

Steve’s eyes dropped to the floor as the recollections washed over him. Frustration, embarrassment and shame still lingered whenever he thought of his efforts to be dominant with Bucky before the serum. 

Long before he’d turned eighteen, Bucky had transformed into a sturdy, grown man. He’d towered over Steve. Still, Bucky had always tried to make Steve feel bigger. But Steve had known better. He had real limits and there had been things they never could attempt as long as he was a shrimp.

But that was then, and this is now. Steve glanced over to the suspended chain dangling from the ceiling. There was a long black bar in the middle, and at each end a set of grip handles connected by chains to black cuffs.

“Remember I used to always talk about stringing you up, so I could whip you?”

Bucky smiled. “Yeah, but we never had nothing to do it with. Besides,we were too poor to afford crazy shit like that and the local five and dime didn’t sell whips.”

Steve chuckled. “Right. I still want to see you suspended.” 

He watched as Bucky’s eyes flickered over to the hook in the ceiling. “Maybe one day, but you need training before we can play with that stuff. House rules.”

Steve stared up at the hook for a moment. “Are there any rules against improvising?”

Raising one eyebrow in question, Bucky cocked his head. “What do you have in mind?”

With his heart doing a jig in his chest, Steve stood and began to walk backwards, towards the suspension bar. He stopped just short of it, sending a silent prayer that Bucky still enjoyed the same things.

“Crawl over here,” Steve ordered.

Something in Bucky’s face changed. He didn’t smile exactly, but his entire face relaxed as if Steve had said something comforting. Steve exhaled and watched as Bucky moved in beautiful fluidity to place his hands on the floor.

Steve was entranced as Bucky crawled slow and cat-like across the floor. He was gorgeous like this and when he reached Steve’s feet and looked up, Steve reached down to pet him. 

“Very good,” Steve murmured. 

Bucky closed his eyes and smiled as Steve ran his hand over his hair. 

“Stand up for me now,” Steve ordered. 

Bucky glanced up past Steve to the suspension bar hanging from the ceiling. A flicker of doubt in his eyes.

“Don’t worry, I’ll follow the rules, promise,” Steve said.

Narrowing his eyes, Bucky slowly clamoured to his feet, his erection flagging. 

Steve smirked. He’d have to fix that. He turned and walked back over to the chest against the wall. It was stacked full of all sorts of things - silk, fluffy cuffs, leather cuffs, rope, chains, whips of various colors and sizes.

There was a nice looking blue and black whip with soft leather strips that had knotted balls at the end. Steve figured it wouldn’t be too much different from the belt he used to use on Bucky. He picked it up, along with a black silk blindfold.

He took slow, deliberate steps to get to Bucky, enjoying the click of his dress shoes on the floor and the cadence it made. Bucky was trying to play it cool, but undressed, his muscles tensed and his breathing was visibly quickening.

Steve came up behind Bucky, just the way Bucky had done to him before. 

“Grab the hand grips,” he ordered.

Bucky slowly raised his arms and took the black hand grips into his palms. They were the perfect height. Not too high to cause a strain, and not too low to ruin the illusion of him hanging. 

“We’re gonna pretend you’re cuffed,” Steve explained. “If you move your hands, you’ll be punished.”

“That sounds promising,” Bucky murmured.

“Believe me, you won’t like it. I’m gonna blindfold you, alright?”

Bucky nodded slowly.

“I can’t hear you, Buck.”

“Yes, Steve,” Bucky said quickly.

Steve stepped closer, slipping the black silk material over his eyes. He waved his hand in front of Bucky’s face and got no reaction.

The way the silk covering concealed Bucky’s eyes only emphasized his beautiful lips. Steve couldn’t help himself, he leaned in to give Bucky a hot, open-mouthed kiss. 

Bucky gasped and kissed back. As they tasted and breathed in each other, Steve’s hand began to wander. He trailed his fingers down Bucky’s sculpted torso to the thick bush of pubic hair where Bucky’s cock was hardening again.

Steve began to stroke the steel-hard, warm length and Bucky’s head fell back.

The chain over them jangled as Bucky’s grip on the grip bars tightened.

“Now just because you have a whip in your hand doesn’t mean you can just wail on me like you used to. We used to do some crazy shit.”

Steve smiled. “Yeah. So teach me.”

“Blindfolded?”

“Sure, you’re a good teacher,” Steve said. “Do you trust me?”

Bucky huffed. “Yes, punk.”

Steve drew back the whip and struck Bucky’s already reddened ass.

“Owww! Geez...yes, Steve!”

“Better,” Steve grinned.

Bucky dropped his head and chuckled. “Still an asshole...Okay, so whatcha wanna do is build up to it. Light at first, and then a little harder. Slow and steady, like a drumbeat.”

Suddenly, Steve’s palms were sweaty. He nodded, but then he realized Bucky couldn’t see him.

“Okay,” he said.

“Keep away from my kidneys. Focus on my mid-back or near my shoulders. And don’t wrap around or move your feet. Figure out where you want to hit and keep striking there. You don’t have to try, just drop your arm and let the whip do the work. Ready?”

Steve took a big gulp. “If you don’t like it, just say…”

“Wilson?” Bucky said, with a smile.

Steve groaned. “I really have to get this right.” He studied Bucky’s back and found a perfect unblemished spot just to the right of Bucky’s spine. 

He pressed his hand there. “Is this a good place?”

“Yes,” Bucky said, and there was an airy quality to his voice now that Steve found sexy.

Steve raised his arm and focused on the spot they agreed upon. Hyper-awareness set in and Steve reminded himself of his strength and Bucky’s instructions not to put any effort behind his blows. He let his arm drop slowly and watched as the knotted ends of the tassels landed where he wanted.

“Well not _that_ light,” Bucky complained. “I am a masochist, you know.”

“I’m just getting started,” Steve said darkly.

“Oooo,” Bucky crowed. “That sounds promising.”

“Do I have to gag you?” Steve asked in a deadpan voice.

“Nah,” Bucky said with a smile in his voice. “Not tonight. Maybe next time.”

His smug overconfidence poked an old hibernating instinct in Steve and he raised the whip once again. This time, he let his arm drop a little sharper. 

Bucky sighed as the knots from the ends of the whip bit into his creamy skin, leaving little red lines. 

“Same spot?” Steve asked, even though he already knew the answer. He wanted to hear Bucky ask for it.

“Yes,” Bucky almost pleaded. “Again… please.”

Steve let his arm fall once more, this time a little quicker.

Bucky gasped and Steve raised his arm and dropped it once more.

“Oh!” Bucky breathed.

“More?”

“Yes, yes, Steve,” Bucky said with a desperation that lit a fire inside of Steve.

With laser focus, Steve struck the same patch of skin, experimenting with moving between a soft drop of his arm to a more sharp snap that always elicited a sound from Bucky.

He didn’t even have to ask if Bucky wanted it harder. There were no more smart-ass remarks or defiant huffs, and when Steve paused to check - yep, Bucky’s cock was fully erect now and leaking. Steve resumed the whipping and Bucky was even more responsive, his torso twitching with every lash. Steve could feel his own cock straining against his pants. 

Bucky’s grip was so tight and his body so taut, the suspension chains didn’t even jiggle anymore. His back was arched as if begging Steve for more. 

Nothing else mattered in that moment but pleasing Bucky, making him happy. Bucky’s back was a canvas that wanted to be painted and Steve would do anything to oblige him.

He raised his arm again and again, each time pushing a little further. It shouldn’t have been so exhilarating. The whip was inanimate. But here, in this place, it was an extension of Steve’s arm. Every gasp, whimper, and moan Bucky uttered was culled from Steve’s touch. It was heady, and Steve was getting drunk on it. 

Bucky was _his_. His to care for, his to please, his to love. His. His. _His_.

A loud cry echoed through the dungeon and stopped his arm in mid-air, blinking, trying to find his place in time. 

“Buck, are you okay?” he asked as the fog in his mind began to dissipate.

The way Bucky laughed in response was startling. Steve dropped the whip and moved quickly to remove the blindfold.

It was wet; tears were running down Bucky’s face. And he was still laughing. It was wet too, more like a half-sob. 

Steve’s heart clenched as he raised his hand to stroke Bucky’s wet cheek. “Talk to me, are you alright?”

Bucky hummed and nodded, his eyes blissed out like he was high on something. 

“I love you, Steve. I love you so much.”

Perhaps it was the acoustics in the dungeon or just Bucky finally uttering words Steve hadn’t heard in over seventy years, but it sounded like a song, a beautiful melody that Steve would replay again in his sleep.

“I love you, too, Buck,” Steve whispered, kissing Bucky softly on the lips. 

They kissed and kissed until Bucky broke it, with a chuckle.

“If this is how you treat your submissives, I’m definitely recommending you for membership.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve said with a smile, feeling like he was floating on air. “Just in case, let me make sure I seal the deal.” 

He kissed Bucky’s shoulder then while rubbing gentle circles over the freshly stripped patch on Bucky’s back.

A deep sigh of contentment filled the dungeon as Steve continued, his mouth trailing down Bucky’s chest and then his abs.

When Steve fell to his knees and took Bucky’s hard dick into his hand, Bucky looked like he might have fallen over if he wasn’t still holding onto the suspension grips.

“You’re spoiling me,” Bucky teased.

“Hmm, am I?” Steve asked, licking a long stripe up Bucky’s entire shaft. Bucky tasted good, familiar. 

Cradling Bucky’s dick in his palm, Steve nuzzled his mouth against Bucky’s balls and gave them kitten licks. Bucky’s little whimpers were delightful, and Steve realized he could string this out for hours, if he wanted. 

He looked up at Bucky and smiled.

“Nooooo, please don’t,” Bucky begged. 

“Don’t what, Buck? I didn’t even say anything,” Steve said, feigning innocence.

“I know you, Steve! You can be devious.”

“Who, me?” Steve asked, not bothering to hide his grin. “You must have me mistaken for someone else.” 

He planted a sloppy wet kiss on Bucky’s cock and dragged his lips along it until he reached the head. 

Bucky exhaled loudly above him. “Come on, suck it…”

Steve raised his eyebrows and pulled back. “Is that any way to ask for a suckjob?”

Closing his eyes momentarily, Bucky appeared to be battling with his patience. It almost made Steve laugh, but instead he decided to up the ante, and licked his way back down Bucky’s shaft again.

“What’s that, Buck? Did you say something?”

Bucky groaned. “Steve… my dear old pal, best buddy, love of my life…. Can you please, _please_ , suck my dick?”

Steve pulled back, stroking Bucky’s cock slow and steady, enjoying the feverish torment on his submissive’s face. 

“Sure, Buck, anything for you…”

Without any more delay, Steve dove in, inhaling as much of Bucky’s length as he could. He choked a little, and struggle to breath around Bucky’s girth which was shocking in its familiarity. 

Bucky began to move and Steve gripped his hips firmly, holding him still. He sucked Bucky slow and steady, drawing out a series of moans. As he continued, he could feel Bucky’s body struggling not to move, and the taste of precome was strong on his tongue. Bucky was close.

Too close. Two hands landed on Steve’s head, grabbing his hair, so Steve stopped sucking and pulled off.

“What? Why’d ya stop?” Bucky asked frantically. “Oh! Oh fuck! That was such a newbie mistake. I’m sorry.”

Steve rose to his feet. “I know you are, but like you said, it’s important to follow the rules. You moved your hands, and there are consequences for not following orders.”

Bucky huffed. “Just so you know, that’s never happened before. I’m the best here when it comes to self-control.”

“Are you saying I’m that good?” Steve asked, not even bothering to hide his satisfaction.

Bucky groaned. 

“Wrong answer,” Steve said in his ‘I’m-disappointed-in-you’ voice.“Perhaps delaying your orgasm a little longer will teach you a lesson.”

There was a flash in Bucky’s eyes, like he wanted to protest, but when Steve raised his eyebrows in question, he seemed to think better of whatever he was about to say.

“Yes, Steve,” he grumped.

“Now that doesn’t sound very enthusiastic,” Steve taunted. Bucky wanted to curse, Steve was sure of it. It was fun watching Bucky’s internal struggle played out on his face.

“I welcome your punishment, Steve. Thank you,” Bucky said with what seemed like considerable effort. 

His dick was still hard. Couldn’t have been so bad.

Steve smiled. “Very good, Buck. You can let go of the grips now.”

The chains overhead jiggled as Bucky slowly released his hands from the handles dangling from them. 

Steve pulled Bucky’s hands into his, palms up and surveyed the damage. There were long visible red indentation where he’d been holding onto the grips. 

“Do they hurt?” Steve asked, rubbing Bucky’s palms gently.

When he looked up at Bucky, he was surprised to see Bucky looking back at him with so much tenderness.

“They’re fine, Steve,” Bucky said. “I’m a big boy, and you didn’t even restrain me.”

Steve huffed. “You’re my submissive. Let me take care of you.”

“Hmm…” There was a mischievous smile on Bucky’s face. “You know there’s another way you can take care of me…”

Steve dropped Bucky’s hands and stepped back. “Nice try, pal, but it’s not gonna work. On your knees.”

It was hard to miss the way Bucky’s cock twitched at the order and Steve suppressed a smirk as he turned to walk back to the chair. 

“Crawl back over here,” he said, picking up the handcuffs to take a seat.

Watching Bucky sink down with perfect grace was like watching a dancer in motion, only a lot more arousing. 

Steve had to adjust his own erection pressing against his pants as he watched Bucky slink back over.

“Now, back to _my_ fantasy,” Steve said, letting the handcuffs dangle from his finger.

Bucky quirked his brow curiously. “Scoot closer, right between my legs.”

As he came closer, Steve leaned in. “Show me your hands.”

Bucky didn’t quite smile, but his eyes brightened as he offered up his hands. 

Steve clipped the cuffs on again and leaned back in his seat, gazing down between his legs. What a picture Bucky made. His skin was glowing and those chestnut nipples were hard with arousal.

Bucky licked his lips and his eyes flicked to Steve’s crotch. It stirred up so much desire, Steve was almost tempted to undress himself. But there were benefits to being patient.

“Take me out,” Steve said in a hoarse whisper that exposed just how much he wanted Bucky in this moment.

Glancing down at his cuffed wrists, Bucky raised one eyebrow in question.

Steve smirked. “Thought you said not to treat you like you’re fragile? I would think with your experience you could manage.”

Bucky cocked his head, and Steve revelled in the challenge he saw in his glare. It reminded him of the old dares and foolish bets they used to make. 

A wave of arousal and excitement hit him as Bucky ducked his head and began to undo the top button of Steve’s dress pants with his teeth.

He struggled at first and Steve was tempted to help him, but it was also damn flattering to see him pursue it with so much determination. Finally, Bucky’s skillful mouth found and unhooked the hidden top clasp. 

He looked up at Steve victoriously and Steve ran a hand over his soft hair. “Very good.”

He withdrew his hand then and glanced down to indicate Bucky should continue. 

Bucky bit a mouthful of his dress pants and began to tug with his teeth. It reminded him of a determined puppy, only Bucky was much, much bigger.

The flush of Bucky’s cheeks and his desperate little grunts affected Steve in a way he had not anticipated. He tried to play stoic but after several minutes of fruitless tugging, Steve decided it was time to put an end to their anticipation. 

Lifting his hips, he pulled down his dress pants and briefs until his hard cock popped out. 

Bucky’s breathing was heavy as he gazed up at Steve like he was waiting to be blessed. It made Steve’s head swim a little.

“Kiss it,” Steve whispered.

Bucky puckered his lips and planted a wet kiss on the underside of Steve’s cock. A tiny jolt of pleasure ran through Steve. 

“Again.”

Moving to the side, Bucky added tongue this time and his lips lingered longer. 

“Keep going,” Steve said, his arousal evident in his breathy tone. 

Bucky’s eyes lit up at the order, and there was a smile on his lips as he laved Steve’s cock with slow, adoring kisses. 

It was captivating, and Steve watched, amazed by the difference between the size of his dick against Bucky’s face compared to what it used to be. He scooted forward in his seat, pushing himself against Bucky’s face, fascinated at how much space his girth and length took up.

Bucky opened his eyes. They were glazed over again, but there was just enough awareness in them to catch what Steve was doing. 

“It’s big enough now to slap me,” Bucky said with a suggestive smile

Steve bit his lip as a flare of lust hit him.

“That what you want?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded.

“Speak up, I can’t hear you,” Steve more sharply.

“Yes, Steve.”

“Yes Steve, what, Buck? Tell me what you want,” Steve asked, gripping his cock firmly above Bucky’s face. 

“I want you to slap my face with your dick, Steve. Please.”

It was a long held fantasy never fulfilled. Before the serum, Bucky always encouraged him, but with his size, Steve had thought the suggestion was ridiculous. And to avoid the inevitable embarrassment, he’d never tried. After the serum, there was the war, and they simply never had a chance. Since waking up from the ice, Steve had locked away the fantasy in a box. There was only one person he knew he’d feel comfortable with doing something like that. The one person who had enough power over Steve for the act to strike even, instead of degrading.

And Bucky was here now. 

Steve’s dick throbbed that much harder in his hand at the suggestion. He tightened his grip in Bucky’s hair and smacked the full length of his dick across Bucky’s cheek.

A small moan fell from Bucky’s lips, and it emboldened Steve to take it further. 

He gave Bucky’s hair a sharp tug, forcing Bucky to tilt his head back even more. Steve leaned forward and rubbed his cock over Bucky’s entire face - left cheek, right cheek, down his forehead, over his nose, and on his chin. Bucky’s face looked so damned good adorned with a cock on it. Steve was pretty sure he could do this all day.

They maintained eye contact the entire time with Bucky’s stare growing hazier with each caress. Steve was entranced. He smacked his cock against Bucky’s other cheek as hard as he could. Bucky’s eyelids fluttered closed and his mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. 

Sliding back in the chair, Steve dragged his cock down Bucky’s face until the head of it was resting on Bucky’s bottom lip. Tiny waves of pleasure traveled through him as he began tracing the outline of Bucky’s plump lips with his cock. 

When Bucky’s tongue slid out to lick, Steve pulled back.

“Nuh-uh. Did I give you permission to do that?”

Bucky gave him a deadpan look. “No...but you didn’t say I had to ask either.”

Steve clicked his teeth. “Such a brat. Maybe you don’t really want it.” 

Stroking his cock, just out of reach of Bucky’s mouth, Steve took joy in watching that smug expression transform into hungry need. Bucky visibly swallowed as his eyes darted from Steve’s face to his cock, silently pleading. 

Straightening in his seat, Steve looked down at him. “What do you want?”

Bucky licked his bottom lip, “Your dick.”

“Where’s your manners, Bucky?” Steve said in a disapproving tone he knew pushed Bucky into that special dreamlike trance. “I know I taught you better than that.”

The way Bucky’s pupils darkened and his eyelids fluttered stirred up a feeling reminiscent of home. The hunger sits deep in Steve’s gut. It’s so old and base, he may as well be in their old apartment. It doesn’t matter if Steve is 6’4 or 5’2, Bucky was here, on his knees and between Steve’s legs, ready to beg for something that’s already his. 

“Please, Steve. I want you in my mouth,” Bucky said in a bratty tone.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

Bucky began to fidget. “Because I want to suck your dick.”

“But why?” Steve pressed, enjoying the way Bucky’s cock was filling despite his frustrated little groans. “You can beg better than that, Buck.”

“Because… because I love your dick, Steve,” Bucky stammered, his face growing redder. “I like it in my mouth.”

“Why?” Steve pressed as he lazily stroked his cock. 

“It’s the only dick I want,” Bucky said desperately. “It’s the only dick I think about. I dream about sucking your dick all the time. I want you to use me. Use my mouth.”

There was an urgency to his words as he finished, and his mouth remained half opened. Any other time Steve would have taken it as seduction, but Bucky’s insistent rocking and the pleading look in his eyes convinced Steve this was the truth.

Steve reached down and grabbed a handful of Bucky’s soft locks to drag him forward until he could feel Bucky’s warm breath against his cock again.

“You always did beg so pretty,” Steve said, nearly vibrating out of his skin from the tease of all of it. “Open up.”

Bucky opened his mouth and made a show of curling his tongue in an act of triumph.

It was very effective in stoking Steve’s lust, but then he remembered how Bucky used to try topping from the bottom by using such tactics. So despite the urgent throb of his cock and being at the end of his figurative rope of patience, Steve made a point not to move. 

A whine, low and needy, filled the dungeon. 

“What’s that, Buck?”

Something close to a sob spilled from Bucky’s mouth. “Want you to fuck my mouth, Steve.”

“If I feed it to you, are you gonna take every inch? Even if it makes you choke a little bit?”

Bucky nodded hard. “Yes, Steve. All of it. Please.”

“Alright then. If it becomes too much, hit my leg with your hands.” Steve pulled on the link between the cuffs of Bucky’s hands to demonstrate.

Bucky huffed like he was insulted, but with Steve’s dick so close to his mouth, he held his tongue. 

Smiling at how much restraint that must have taken, Steve decided it was time for Bucky’s reward. He moved forward slowly, pushing himself inside Bucky’s hot, wet mouth. 

Bucky immediately closed his mouth around it, sucking and using his tongue to caress it.

Groaning, Steve held onto the back of Bucky’s head as he pushed himself deeper inside. Bucky’s eyes widened considerably as choking and gurgling sounds echoed throughout the dungeon.

It was something out of a fevered dream. An ancient fantasy Steve had long abandoned, but Bucky was really gagging around his dick as his own was rock hard and leaking on the floor. 

Steve waited for the nonverbal sign he’d gone too far, but it never came. Instead, Bucky pushed himself even further, and Steve gasped as the head of his cock pressed against the narrow opening of Bucky’s throat. 

Bucky was still looking up at him, his eyes completely glazed over. He was in one of his trances. The kind he used to go into when they used to play in the tenement apartment. 

Steve felt a protective urge to stop, to not push too hard while Bucky was in this state. But Bucky began to bob on his cock, each time pressing a little harder to accommodate more of Steve.

Finally, Steve felt the tip of his dick at the threshold of the tight ring of Bucky’s throat. He paused, holding Bucky’s head firmly as Bucky adjusted his breathing. Steve could feel the quickening fan of hot air from Bucky’s nostrils as Bucky tried to take in air that way. 

“You good?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded as much as he could. 

Steve’s free hand joined the other one on Bucky’s head as he pushed forward. The gagging noise and excess of drool dripping from Bucky’s mouth was intoxicating. Steve began to slip into his own trance. 

Bucky was all around him, just like he should be. Bucky was everything. They could have been in a shitty tenement apartment, or a flimsy canvas tent, or in a dungeon. It didn’t matter where they were; this connection they shared was the only thing that mattered. Bucky was here in the flesh, and Steve wanted him to know that he would never, ever leave him again. He’d always be here, completely present. 

He pinched Bucky’s nostrils to block his only remaining source of air. Bucky’s eyes rolled all the way into his head and the sound of his moans grew louder. When Bucky began to sputter and gurgle, it lit a fire that burned through Steve’s stoic filter.

“Oh god, Buck, look at you. You’re so fucking beautiful. I love you. Love the way you inhale my cock. You’d choke on it for me, wouldn't you? That what you want? Wanna choke on it? Want me to come down your throat?”

Steve was vaguely aware of his babbling but didn’t feel self-conscious about it, especially since it seemed to renew Bucky’s insistence on taking more of him.

The choking sounds grew louder and there was a mess of drool spilling all over Steve’s lap. His mouth was still running, and Steve was only half aware of what he was saying. 

“This is yours, all yours, Bucky. Take it. Take it all for me, baby.”

Tightening his hold on Bucky’s head, Steve began to push and pull Bucky’s mouth over him.

A steady, low moan filled the dungeon, disrupted every so often by Bucky’s coughing. But he kept it up, his glazed-over stare focused on Steve. There was so much bliss and adoration in those eyes that Steve got lost in it. 

Bucky’s mouth never felt so good. 

This was better than the rare moments they’d stolen together, when neither one of them had to work or take girls out to keep up appearances. It was better than Steve making Bucky crawl across the floor in their tenement apartment right before Bucky had to beg to suck on him. It was even better than Bucky going down on him in the back alley behind Sal’s. 

Steve had never completely filled Bucky’s mouth before and now he was finally endowed enough to really block Bucky’s air passage. Bucky no longer had to humor Steve. No, this time, Bucky’s mouth was completely consumed by every inch of Steve. 

The thought alone was incredibly erotic. But when Steve looked down and saw the way Bucky’s mouth stretched around him and how eagerly Bucky sacrificed air to take him, Steve knew he wouldn’t last long. 

Bucky’s moans grew louder as Steve continued to fuck his mouth. He tried to prolong the inevitable but soon Steve’s hips began to stutter. Bucky must have sensed it because the jerk forced his mouth down further, almost completely enveloping Steve’s entire dick.

Steve cried out and froze, holding Bucky’s head in a vice grip as he came. He shuddered and gasped as Bucky’s throat worked to swallow everything, but he was still coming when he pulled out, shooting the last of it over the bottom half of Bucky’s face. 

It took a moment to gather his senses and tend to unfinished business, but after a few moments Steve loosened his hold and slid back in the chair, smearing his dick in the mess he’d left on Bucky’s mouth and chin.

What a picture Bucky made in that moment. His hair was tousled where Steve’s hands had been, his eyes were still dazed and wet, there were tears on his cheeks, and the entire lower half of his face was wet.

“Geez, look at you.”

Bucky blinked slowly, and Steve smiled at how wrecked he looked.

“You wanna come for me?” Steve asked.

Bucky nodded. “Yeah… please.”

Leaning over, Steve caressed the dry areas of Bucky’s cheek. 

“Wipe your face and then get yourself off,” Steve ordered.

That dazed look in Bucky’s eyes cleared a little as Steve’s order began to sink in. Steve could see the gears in Bucky’s head turning as he took in his predicament. 

He was still handcuffed and half of his face was smeared in drool and come. Steve wished he could take a picture of it.

Slowly, Bucky brought his cuffed hands to his face and turned his wrists so his palms were facing up. He locked eyes with Steve as he dragged his hands over his face, gathering up the mess there. 

Lowering his linked hands, Bucky formed a tight, wet handclasp around his cock. He began to stroke himself sure and steady like he was starting a fire. Rocking and gasping, his head fell to his chest as his clasped hands moved faster and faster.

“That’s it,” Steve said, leaning in to get a closer look. “Let me see you do it.”

Bucky threw his head back and moaned. He looked so enraptured in his own pleasure, the pleasure Steve had ordered him to take for himself. Suddenly Steve wanted to be a part of it, wanted to help Bucky reach his climax. Steve leaned over further and spit down on Bucky’s dick.

“Oh fuck,” Bucky muttered, his clasped hands moving so fast his entire body shook with them. 

“You gonna come for me, Bucky? Hmm?” Steve asked. “Come on. Show me how good you are. Come for me.”

Bucky gasped and his eyes clenched shut as his hands visibly tightened around his cock. Ropes of milky white come erupted, landing on Bucky’s thighs, Steve’s leg and the floor.

Quickly, Steve searched around the chair for his discarded pants. Once he found them, he dug around for the tiny key he’d tucked away.

Bucky still looked out of it as Steve unlocked him and removed the handcuffs. Steve took both of Bucky’s wrists into his hands and rubbed gentle circles along the reddened lines left behind. 

The only sound in the dungeon was Bucky’s labored breathing. He’d read about sub drop, but had never seen Bucky go through anything like that before. They’d never played quite like this, either. Steve watched him closely for any signs of one. 

When Bucky’s eyes remained shut and his body began to shiver, Steve quickly moved down to the floor to gather him into his arms. The shudder of Bucky’s body compelled Steve to hold him tighter, rocking to soothe him. He kissed the top of his head and ran his hands over Bucky’s warm skin.

“I love you,” he murmured. “You’re so good for me.”

Time was suspended within the dungeon. Steve had no idea how long they remained on their knees together; it could have been a few minutes or an hour. It didn’t matter, Steve didn’t want to let go. 

Finally, Bucky began to fidget, wiggling within Steve’s arms, and smothering his face against Steve’s shirt. It was then that Steve realized Bucky was wiping the remaining residue of the mess on his face all over Steve’s designer clothing. 

“They don’t have any towels or tissues down here?” Steve asked.

Bucky pulled back, his eyes less cloudy than before, and smiled.

“Yeah, we have a hot towel bar over there,” he nodded over to a corner, near the rack of whips. Steve noticed a small black oven and shook his head. 

“You could have told me,” he said. “I would have cleaned you up.”

Bucky smirked. “You already did. I used your shirt.”

Steve snorted. “Jerk.” 

He waited for the familiar ‘punk’ retort, but instead, Bucky stared back at him with so much emotion in his eyes it stole Steve’s breath away. 

“I missed you,” Bucky said quietly, his eyes growing wetter. “Once I started remembering, it was like a part of me was missing. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I’m really glad you found me.”

“Me too, Bucky,” Steve said, his heart thrumming so loudly he was sure Bucky could hear it. “I missed you so much.”

They leaned into each other and their lips met. The kiss was wet and messy because of Bucky’s face. His mouth tasted like Steve’s come, but it was better than any kiss Steve had dreamed of, because it was real. 

When the kiss broke, Bucky had a blissed out smile on his face. 

“Thank you for sending for me,” Steve whispered.

Bucky pushed at Steve’s chest playfully. “Okay, now you’re messing up the whole dynamic. I’m supposed to be thanking you, punk. That’s _way_ hotter.”

“Hey, I set the rules here,” Steve said with a smile. “If I want to thank my submissive, then that’s just what I’ll do.”

Bucky groaned. “Ugh, so bossy.”

Steve chuckled. “You love it.”

Bucky ducked his head, and yeah, he was blushing and it warmed Steve all over again. He leaned in to plant another kiss when a sharp knock stopped him. 

They both stared at the dungeon door.

“Who is it?” Bucky practically barked.

“Sorry, James, it’s Victoria,” she sounded nervous, which was so unlike her. “I don’t mean to interrupt, but there are visitors here to see you both.”

Steve frowned and looked at Bucky who suddenly looked anxious.

“Who is it?” Steve asked, trying to ignore the creeping dread rising up in his gut.

“A man named Sam is here with a woman named Natasha. They arrived in a very futuristic looking black jet and, um, they’ve cleared the party. We are evacuating to Arthur’s fortress in Muiden. He has a bomb shelter. You’re both welcome to stay there if you need to. There’s something happening and we have to seek safety. I’m so sorry,” Victoria said. 

Her voice was different from any time Steve had ever heard it. She sounded shaken.

Steve and Bucky glanced at each other, and in the next second they were both on their feet.

“Are you alright?” Steve asked.

Bucky waved him off. “I’m fine. Let’s just get dressed. There’s two SIG-Sauers in the cabinet behind the rack. Grab them. I have a glock and a few other things.”

It should not have been a shock, but Steve couldn’t conceal his surprise that Bucky kept weapons in the castle.

Bucky shrugged as he slid on his pants. “Hey, I have a past and I’m supposed to be protecting these people. Speaking of which, how in the hell did they find us?”

Blowing out a hard breath, Steve zipped up his dress pants and shook his head as he remembered the vibranium belt T’Challa had gifted him. It was still in his duffel bag. “I think I’ve been tracked….shit. I really hope this isn’t bad.”

“Steve. Sam _and_ Natasha are here and it sounds like they came in one of T’Challa’s jets,” Bucky said in a grave tone. “It can’t be good.”

The creeping dread Steve had before transformed into battle ready alertness.

Just before he and Bucky reached the dungeon door, he grabbed Bucky by the arm and pulled him close. “You don’t have to do this. You can stay here. I’ll deal with it.”

Bucky groaned. “What did I tell you, punk? I’m always going to have your six. Whatever is on the other side, I’m with you. To the end of the line.”

“To the end of the line,” Steve said before pulling Bucky in for a fierce kiss. 

When the kiss broke, Bucky looked into his eyes, familiar determination marking his brow. “Just promise me one thing….”

“What, Buck?” Steve asked.

“If we can, promise we’ll come back here. That this won’t be a one-shot deal.”

“I promise,” Steve said earnestly. “There is no if. We’re coming back here after this. I just found you again, I’m not gonna let you go now.”

Bucky smiled and moved in for another kiss, but the knock on the dungeon door stopped him. This one sounded more urgent.

“Shit,” Bucky muttered.

Steve swallowed and nodded. Their time in the dungeon had been nothing short of a miracle. Hopefully they would have more moments – days, weeks, years – like this, but for now Steve had to lock it away in his memory chest and get into the headspace to deal with whatever was waiting on the other side.

“Whatever happens, we’ll get through it,” he said. “I may not have a shield but--”

“You’re still _Captain America_!” Bucky said with a snicker.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Ugh, you’re the worst submissive ever.”

“Best you ever had, though,” Bucky said with a lot of bravado. His eyes were still searching Steve’s, like he needed affirmation. 

“You’re my best everything, Buck,” Steve said, leaning in to get one last kiss.

The door shook from the hard knocks this time, and Sam’s voice sounded impatient on the other side.

“Hey guys, I don’t know what kind of freaky shit you’re into, and I really don’t care. We need to go, now! I’ll brief you on the way.”

“See, told you,” Bucky said, gesturing to the door. “ _Wilson_ kills the mood every time.” 

Steve let out a long sigh and opened the door. Wherever they were headed, it was going to be a long flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading this self-indulgent canon-divergent missing chapter between Black Panther and Infinity War. Regardless of what happens in the movie, in THIS world Steve and Bucky do make it back to the castle to resume exploring each other. :D


End file.
